I was still unable to process what was happening. My sweetheart, my love, everything I have missed in the past year had come back to live with me. He was here sleeping next to me his breaths shallow but his body was cold. There was no blood no gore, Nothing like the last time I saw him. He was clean and hole but cold. I decided not to ask questions and just go along with my morning convinced this was just part of my grieving process like sitting in little Ava's room smelling her blankets until they no longer held her scent. I persuaded myself to get out of bed and take a shower believing Owen would be gone when I walked back in. He is just in my head, right? When I go back in he will be gone." I stood in the shower thinking about what happened the night everything went to hell. The night I lost my little girl, the night I lost my husband, I night I lost everything that was important.
Water was rushing the streets and sweeping away tree branches. Flashes of lighting were the only thing letting us see what direction we were driving. Ava was screaming in the backseat; this being her first major storm not spent at home under the protection of her stuffed animals. Owen was driving fast for the storm rushing to get us safe at home. If he would have been going just a little bit slower maybe everything could have changed. Maybe it could have been avoided. Maybe they would still be here. Lighting has stuck the middle of the bridge, right in front of the car. Owen has swerved to avoid the bright light causing him to lose control over the car. He tried to right it. He tried to keep us safe. He tried to save us. I had unbuckled to turn around at an attempt to get Ava to quiet down when the lighting had stuck. I was thrown out the front windshield onto the pavement. I had broken my arm in the landing but I had a still managed to witness the car roll through the guardrail, over the edge and plunge into the cold spring water of the Colorado River.
Wrapping a towel around myself I step out into the hall. There should be silence. The silence of the first night I slept alone. The silence of the year I spent grieving. Instead there was soft music coming from the kitchen along with the joy of a child's laugh and the sizzle of breakfast. I hesitantly walk around the corner to find Own and Ava making breakfast and dancing together. I run back to my room slamming the door and locking it behind me. My mind begins to race. This isn't real. They are dead. They were buried. I put flowers over their caskets. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe we can be a family again. I quickly get dressed and head back to the kitchen greeting my late husband with a kiss.
