Two years ago I was sitting in an interpreting class at the university, whrn my phone rung, and a number that was unknown to me called... once, twice, three times. I knew that I allowed Chris to go on an outing with a classmate of his and the other boy's (medical doctor) father... I knew teh phonecall does not mean good.
The scars will be there forever and he maybe limping all his life from now on (maybe only when he is tired if we are lucky) but he is home, he is with me, and he walks on his own two feet. As high as he fell from, I had nightmares for months what else could have happened. I could have blamed others, the final decision to let him go was done by ME, at the end it was all my fault. The guilty feeling just like the scars and the limping will stay with me forever.
Sixteen will never go home anymore. I've tried to think of the families' situations and feelings, but my stomach gets into a knot and I feel ill... I just cannot watch a video, and avoid news like a plague, in order not to run into one...
A friend of mine wote she is glad that they did not had enough money otherwise her son would have been on that bus... I think I am glad for Chris's accident, because it put a lid on any skiing trip... and I can say no to any trip without feeling guilty. I know I cannot close him in, and an acident can happen even between our home and his shcool... I know. BUT, I already let him go once, and he did not come home on his two feet, but he was brough home, the balance between letting him go, and use his wings, and worry... changed. For now at least. Now, after this weekend a little bit even more.