Six Sentence Story- WATCH

Kenneth Bice Morrison

The navy shipped the body of my first born son home to our friendly neighborhood undertaker on a 4th of July weekend.

A numbness covered me as I just agreed to whatever his assistant suggested we do for a wake service that he would direct and take care of the details before I halted him at wanting to have an open casket because there were no  marking on my son’s face from his car accident that took his life on a rainy Wednesday night.

Oh, no, I was not ready to face the fact that my son would no longer be calling me with his adventurous stories or sending me a birthday card and mother’s day card as he always did along with a sweet note to make it personal.

I figured I would take it slow and easy in accepting that fact because there was no rush now was there.

His pea coat hung on the trim around my living room doorway where I could see it and pass it several times a day for months on end, driving the stakes of memory into my heart, but the final irritation that drove me near crazy was his watch laying on the roll top desk with the band broken, my son’s head broken but the damn thing kept running.

How does that happen?

14 Comments

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14 responses to “Six Sentence Story- WATCH

  1. UP

    Heartbreaking. The pix is the same vintage as my time in the USN. We all looked like CPOs then. Sad but well written tale. When there is loss it often takes time for the talismen to exit. But they do. Good job on this. Very personal.

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  2. Thank you UP for your comment. It’s good to write about this after so long.

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  3. I am so sorry, Arlene. Dealing/coping/adjusting to life without a loved one – no directions for that. Writing can be very helpful in finding the way.

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  4. Pat Brockett

    Oh, those objects that remain when the loved one has passed on can be treasures but also painful reminders that the person is no longer there. Associating the death of a child with a holiday is also hard to bear. Hugs.

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  5. Thank you Pat for your hugs and comment. Loss is a pain that is adapted to life and lived with tucked away, but always there.

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  6. So very sorry. I cannot imagine the loss of a child.

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    • Thank you Susan. This took place 40 years ago. I learned i had a choice, i could fold up and disintegrate or accept, know this was part of my journey in this lifetime and go on. I’ll always miss him but i have also continued on to have a full life. Thank you for reading my words and thoughts.

      Liked by 1 person

  7. Something told me to wait to read your words. I kept coming to your page but knew I wanted to really focus, not rush through it. And I’m glad I did. This needed full attention. My heart aches for you and this also brings memories of my own losses. We really are a unity of life’s cycles.

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  8. We buried a daughter. It does astound that life goes on. Gentle hugs to you.

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  9. Anne Brennan

    Writing definitely helps healing, Arlene. And, sharing your story absolutely helps others. Sudden death of a loved one, especially a child, is unbearable and indescribable. Choosing to forge ahead amidst the pain and loss is admirable….for many people enviable. God bless you in your journey to continued healing. Your son is smiling down on you from Heaven for sure. Thank you for sharing…

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