But then, on the road back, I got a call from my brother, telling me that my dad was smeared across a city block yesterday by a cement truck.
I've been through a dozen emotions in the last couple of hours, none of them good. I'm starving, but too naseated to eat. I almost had to stop driving on the way back, because it was getting so I couldn't see where I was driving. Any way you look at it, I'm an emotial wreck.
The worst thing is that I don't actually know for sure -- all the circumstantial evidence points to it being my father (nobody's seen him since yesterday afternoon, the bike from the news looks like it could be his), but there's almost nothing left to identify, so we're just not sure, and finding the right people to talk to has been difficult. My brother's trying to find out what he can, and if the worst is true, I'll probably be driving back out to Kansas City very soon.
In the mean time, I'm dreading the phone. And I don't know if I should go ahead with tonight (or tomorrow's) plans, or really what I should do. I know I shouldn't stay here and, well... But, on the other hand, I'm afraid if I go anywhere, I'll break down.
So here I am, posting all of this on LJ, because talking about this with anyone just right now would be too difficult.
I used to have nightmares about something like this happening when I was a kid, after my (step) mother died. I'd forgotten all about it -- apparently I'd successfully buried all of that a long time ago -- but now it's all coming back. Shit.