It’s been three weeks right about now.  Both a moment and an eternity ago.  I am remembering Shelby texting from another hemisphere, half a world away.   Three weeks ago.  It begins again. I start to feel lightheaded, nauseous and weak.  When I got her first text, I had a really bad feeling.  She hadn’t heard from him all day.  I called him.  I texted him.  Nothing.  I checked with Paul.  No, he hadn’t sent Paul his weekly football game picks.  As the hours wore on, and our concerns escalated, I tried so hard to think positively, but my heart knew.  Earlier in the day, mid-morning, probably right about the time John’s room mate, the EMT’s, the police, the coroner, were asking for our contact information, a random thought had popped into my head…. “We should have John’s room mate’s contact information”.  They didn’t have ours.

Shock protects the brain I guess.  The hours after that are jumbled, with a few sharp memories.  The FaceTime call from Shelby, screaming, hysterical, asking me “What do I do? What should I do?”  Me, staring at the screen, completely unable to speak, unable to move.  A call to Paul.  NO! NO! NO! NO!!! He was at home.  I was 180 miles away.  We conference-called John’s roommate. Matt called out of the blue with exciting news about his day at the career fair and the interviews set up for the next day. We had to tell him.  He was alone, 3,000 miles away.  How could we have hung up with Matt?  How could we leave him standing on the lawn in front of the Kresge Auditorium, all alone? So alone.  Another conference call.  This time with the coroner.  Spoken slowly, measured.  Doling out information gradually.  He must know that people can’t hear him, can’t understand what he’s saying, can’t process the information.  He is professional.  Kind, but all business.  Taking notes to remember what he said, I write his phone number on the piece of paper and as we closed, carefully folded the paper and tucked it safely in my notebook. Now I had to drive home from Tahoe.  Trying to keep it together.  I called my friend Ellen.  I needed her to get friends over to the house so Paul wasn’t alone.  She picked up on the first ring.  I couldn’t get the words out.  They were stuck right where my neck meets my body.  I choked, gagged, blurted, and the words came out in a horrific unending sob.  I can’t remember anything else, but I know she said she would take care of Paul.  I had to get home.  I had to get home to Paul.  Paul was so far away.  How could I get home as fast as I wanted to?  I was shaking.  My legs were lead.  I was walking through mud, mud that was chest deep.  I had to pack up the car.  I tried so hard to remember everything.  Somehow I made it into the car.  It was so hard with leaden legs and all that mud.  As soon as I closed the garage, I called Paul back.  We agreed to keep the phone on speaker and we would be together on the drive home.  We didn’t have to talk, but we needed to be connected.  It wasn’t long before the doorbell rang and he wasn’t alone.  Cruise control set at 65mph, I settled into the slow lane and focused on keeping myself between the lines.  Friend after friend called me and talked me home mile by mile.  When asked, “Where are you now?” I had to look up.  The road I know so well had become foreign.  I wasn’t sure where I was.  Only when I passed an exit sign could I tell.  Two hours into the drive I reached back and patted my dog’s head.  I wasn’t sure if she was in the car.  I remembered to pack my dog.

Three weeks.  A moment and an eternity ago.