The funeral : part II The trip to Nampa

I was at my desk when I got the call. It was Friday and I had just completed my scheduled DV group at 11:30. The phone rang. Amanda answered. I think she said "It's Doug", I took the phone, "Padron Counseling" I said, "Hey bud, how's it going....It's Doug, Kyal's dead. I just talked to Chris and he's on his way to Boise to be with LaDawn,..... he's dead,....... Bret killed him". I felt around for my chair, all I could say was...."no, don't say that, don't say that". I remember that much. I struggled to get my balance. I struggled to get out of the mental fog as I finally believed that Doug was telling the truth. My friend was dead. My friend had been killed by his brother. The same freckle faced kid we taught to fish. I sobbed. The director of DVIC came to my office and offered support, kind words, much needed guidance. I drove home intent on driving to Nampa right then and there. We left on Saturday.
The day was gloomy and wet. The sorrow hung in the air like a smog dragon holding a city hostage on a humid day. It was two days after the beginning of the actual police investigation and all I could focus on was my poor friend lying in his own blood. Made me sick to my stomach, makes me sick as I write this now.
I made the trip to Nampa because I was worthless to everyone, I was not in Idaho Falls, I was in Nampa so why not go. I drove and said very little all the way. I remember the Utah exit near Burley for some reason, but I can’t purge the memory that creates significance to that place. When I got to Nampa I expected to be the strong presence for his family, the one to take care of them for my friend. I wanted to be their pillar of hope. As I exited the truck I saw Chris. I saw a grown man not the kid I remember on Tabor Ave. I cried. I cried like a baby.
To be continued......................................

Posted Art: The Death of the Grave-digger by Carlos Schwabe (1877-1927)