From the outside it looks like any other building, but as I draw closer, the stark blackness of it engulfs me. There is a light on in there, but it isn't very bright. The moon is behind me and I see my own reflection in the broken window. I am in pieces and splayed out in a circle. I think someone should break it out and put a new sheet of glass in there. If it breaks unexpectedly, people could get hurt. I have climbed the steps and reached the door. I can hear them inside. There is laughing, shouting, and singing... I hesitate. If I knock on this door, someone will answer, and then I will have to go inside- where happy people play around me. In the dark.
My response to a course assignment - Describe a place from the point of view of a parent who has lost a child without pointing out they have lost a child.
I have never lost a child. My nephew died in a car accident three years ago and it was a living hell, but my grief was not the same as my sister's. And just this last weekend, my cousin lost his youngest - only slightly older than Danny was... and in a car accident. Life is so unpredictable. So is death. :(
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