I told my therapist today about what happened with the water main.  She has told both Parker and I time and again that our situation is not normal, that most people don’t get signs like ours, or have these perfectly orchestrated situations.  I agree wholeheartedly, we are truly lucky, blessed even.  She was shocked when I told her about Wednesday night.

She is the one person that truly knows exactly what happened the day of the accident.  Sure, I’ve talked to Parker about it and he was there before the ambulances, but she knows in pretty good detail what happened.  So it was in talking to her today that we realized the parallels between the accident and what happened on November 8th.  I was hoping to sleep tonight, but I suppose getting this off my chest was more important.

Seeing the road bubble up, almost come to life made sense to me.  Watching the pavement split open and fall into the rushing water seemed logical.  The water was washing all physical evidence of that day away for me, it was as if the Earth were cleansing herself.  To look at the large gaping wound that was left I felt as if I was looking within myself.  I was almost sad to see it filled in and covered up.  It was as if the road looked as I have felt since November 8th.

Watching Parker run wildly from the Suburban down Bjorklund brought me back, except this time he wasn’t running to me.  I was no longer the one in need.  Standing on the corner and around our property and the church looking at the road was eerie.  It was so significant, except this time I was on the other side, I was a spectator.  Seeing caution tape around our property again, looking at photos in the news of our house and the church, the street, it brought it all back.  This time we were on the other side.  This wasn’t a catastrophe happening to us.  

Running outside and seeing the street pulsing, it was if it was alive.  I didn’t see anyone else, so I called 911.  I was able to take charge of the situation and inform the authorities.  I was able to try to help (I didn’t really do anything) our neighbor as the water started down his lawn.  When the press descended upon our house again, I was able to kick them off our property.  I might not have been nice about it, but it was what they deserved in my opinion after how they treated us the night my son died.  As minute as these details may seem, I was actually able to do something.  I didn’t feel helpless.  It was almost cathartic.  Here I am thrown into another emergency situation right outside my house, except this time, I wasn’t cast as the victim, I wasn’t helpless.

Looking at the situation again, I realized there was a lot more significance than just the physical damage.  We made it through this event unscathed, even though it felt like we relived several of the same sights and emotions.  I still cannot believe that any of this has truly happened.  

Author: sheriroaf

Sheri Roaf is the mother of four wonderful children who turned to blogging after her 17 month old son Bennett passed away unexpectedly. Through her writing she has found a way to help herself and her family move forward in the face of tragedy.

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