Driving Ben to daycare, I played the song "I will follow you into the dark,"
If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no's on the vacancy sign
If there's no one beside you when your soul departs
I'll follow you into the dark
I would have followed her into the dark, and I wasn't even given the chance.
It was my first time driving since that horrible doctor's appointment where we discovered Lydie had no heartbeat, and I had to drive home from the doctor's office, knowing somehow that these roads would never look the same again.
I drove, with tears streaming down my face, reaching back to grab Ben's hand and squeeze it.
I've always been in a hurry. Always. I can't even tell you why except that I think of life as an endless to-do list. I walk fast, I drive fast, I'm annoyed when other people make me two minutes late, I'm always thinking about the next thing. I wasn't a bad driver by any means, just didn't have a lot of patience. I'd text at stoplights and finish the text while moving and try to keep an eye on the road. I'd roll through stop signs, drive 5 miles over the speed limit, tail people when I thought they should be driving faster. I still held on a bit to the teenage invincibility complex, even with my son in the backseat, even while carrying my daughter.
I can't imagine that I'll ever feel that way again.
This morning, I drove more cautiously than I ever had in my whole life.
And I was that crazy woman, filling up at the gas station, crying, still telling my daughter I'd follow her into the dark.