forty-seven miles
on the worn-out leather steering wheel.
It’s June and I have my car at last! Sixteen months, repair after repair- I have the keys at hand. Its sporty appearance hides under the thickned layers of dust. The luster of its black gloss paint is no longer apparent yet I still feel his warm prescence within i...ts cold steel chassis.
An old volume of Sports Illustrated, a pair of inline skates and a kite rested to the far corner of the trunk. Memories came as my hands ran the scattered remnance of its inside.
The keys danced to the jingle as they turned the lock in the trunk. Immaculate- as I had seen it last. I wanted to feel his company, I wanted to feel his hands reach for mine as I turned the keys to open the door. I was the first to open this car after the horrible incident sixteen months prior. The leather interior was immaculate as usual. The carpet stood near new with the exception of a spill that a lunch bag had created. The lunch bag held an old Chinese Take-out box that lay half-open in the back; its food had been spilled during a sharp turn or something. Many dried maggots surrounded the box and some had made their way up the back seat. Those fortunate to have developed into flies found themselves trapped and many of them perished silently by my rear speakers. Smell of dead flies. Smell of leather. Stillness and silence at this fly cemetery.
“Edward, why are you not here?” my thoughts raced, “I miss you so much.” I sat in the driver’s seat hoping that I would feel his presence once again. With my eyes closed, my hands made their way to the steering wheel, which I knew, had felt his hands for the last time. My hands searched frantically for his feel.
The trip odometer counter read forty-seven miles. I was the one who had reset the odometer that morning. Where and what had occurred during those forty-seven miles?
on grief; public apathy; seeing your loved one in others.
The car had been detailed and washed several times by now. It regained its cute personality but life was not the same for me. They say that loss has its many stages--sorrow and lamentation lingered. I could not come to closure, it was not time yet. I found comfort in the company of others. It was not before long before I realized my interaction with others was trying to emulate my interaction with my lost son, Edward. I began to see Edward in the boy walking down the street holding his father’s hand, I saw him in the twelve-year olds riding their bikes around the lake and was constantly reminded of his youthful ways and good qualities.
forty-seven miles; a lifetime away.
The things I remember that particular September morning that led to my sad state of spirit are very clear. He packed his items for the day as I got ready for work. He had planned to finish his school very soon and hoped continue on to college. Yes, there are tidbits of confrontations that a boy must run across in his life, but neither Ed nor I had any idea his confrontation would involve such a high complicated level. We took my car as customary and headed for my work. He dropped me off and then routed to his school.
...I still think of that day. I imagine him driving at high speeds on the freeway with police chasing him, I imagine his thoughts racing- knowing that he had done wrong. I can imagine his regret at not being able to go back to his morning ritual and start over again. He was young, defiant and brown. Forty-seven miles he had to turn fate around. Forty-seven miles of fear for authority, forty-seven miles to defy authority, forty-seven miles to give in to his seduction to adventure. Wrongfully so, those forty-seven miles led him a life-time of a distance from his family, from his friends, and from his freedom.
work under pressure; deadlines; dead lines.
His sentencing to life in prison has changed both our lives. He is the son I will never caress again. I am the mother he will never kiss. He has been a thirteen year tenant so far of the correctional system. I believed in our justice system, I also believed in our due process- but this case has shown me otherwise.
Commitment; change.
It is hard for many people to even imagine the level of emotional, physical and mental stress that drains my life, but the memory of him renews my daily life.
Trials can bring out the best in you. Weakness brings strength, and ignorance incites knowledge. I am patient with time, for I know that sooner if not later, I will embrace my son as I had that last morning.
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