Underserved Privlege
How has it already been almost one year? It feels like yesterday in so many ways. Getting that phone call before the sun had time to rise. Trying to control my emotions so as to focus on staying between those blurry lines painted on the highway. Busting through those squeaky double doors as the nurses move aside so I could make my way to Sophia's bed. To be in utter belief and shock that's it's over. The fight is over. Had we lost? Had we won? Depends. Depends on how I wanted to look at it. When Melody died one year before Sophia, she was in my arms half a mile from the hospital. I didn't know, or maybe refused to believe that she died before running through the front doors of that hospital, so they generously said they would take care of the burial since she was pronounced dead in their ER. I remember the intense feelings all too well of her being carried in a box on the shoulder of a stranger as he tapped her box to make music while he hummed through the cemetery