Fingerprints

"I don’t remember the drive home. It was late afternoon by this time and I waited for Michael to get home from work. This was something so monumental and devastating that he had to be told in person in the sanctuary of our home, not over the phone. David went to play in his room and I sat, just sat going over in my mind all that I had been told that awful day. There wouldn’t be any dinner cooked that night. No phone calls answered.. Just silence….along with the quiet, angelic sounds of a three year old playing make believe in his room.

As I sat in our family room looking outside into our big beautiful backyard with the lovely view of the hills and large estates in the distance, I wondered how I could possibly endure this next very deep valley of uncertainty...."