I didn’t write a blog yesterday. Frankly, things just got too crazy for me to wrap my mind around doing so. The night before, my cell phone decided to completely and forever die. Not a good thing for one who is so dependent on it. As soon as I realized that it was really dead, a sort of panic set in. Not for the obvious reasons, but because I had this unexplainable feeling that my kids were going to need to get hold of me. And right now, my husband is out of the country.
Long ago, I learned to pay close attention to when I get these feelings, for they always foretell of actual things to come. So I set off on what should have been a straightforward journey to get a replacement cell phone, but proved to be anything but. Through a process that took five and a half hours and involved numerous people, I did finally get a replacement phone and was able to get it loaded up with all my information.
A short twenty minutes after I pulled off that feat, my new phone rang with a call from my daughter, Kai’s mommy, who was crying, near hysterical and making little sense. Like me, this daughter isn’t one to cry nor is she likely to become hysterical, so the instant I heard her tone, I knew something had gone terribly wrong.
She told me that she needed me to come to where she was. That there had been a problem. That she, Kai and our daughter’s car had been attacked. Hearing her words, time seemed to stand still. I could hear chaos in the background, someone telling her to get off the phone. I heard distress in her voice that she didn’t want to oblige but needed to.
In a couple of sentences, she told me that she’d called the police. They were there with her and telling her to get off the phone. She pleaded for me to get to her. Her mind understandably scrambled, she only gave me cross streets of where she was. I figured I’d get heading in that direction and call her once nearer, hoping she’d be thinking more clearly by then.
So that’s what I did. Glancing at the clock, I realized that I was needed to pick up our youngest son from school and that I’d now be late. But that mattered not, for I knew I could text him and ask him to wait for me. Now, the priority was to get to our daughter and granddaughter. Taking a deep breath, I got in the car and headed to where my daughter had told me she was. Must admit, it took everything I had to not speed or drive like a mad woman to get there, for my nerves were frazzled not knowing what I might find once there. How bad it would be.
Nearing where I needed to be, I called my daughter. This time, she was a little more coherent and gave me a more specific locale. Within minutes I arrived and, seeing my daughter off a ways, clutching our granddaughter, while talking to an officer, I went straight to them and wrapped them in the tightest hug that conveyed all my heart was feeling. My daughter let herself melt against me, Kai caught between us.
The officer gave us our space for a minute or two then took my daughter off to the side to finish the report while I held and comforted Kai. Meanwhile, the one who had attacked them was standing a short distance away. Seeing him, the smirk on his face, how he was laughing and joking with the officer guarding him, like he hadn’t a care in the world, like this was all a joke, made me struggle to control myself. I focused on comforting Kai.
The report was finished, the one responsible arrested and put in one of the three squad cars that had reported to the scene, and we were free to…to…go, I suppose. Pick up where we’d left off. Well, not quite. After this, things will never be the same. There will be court dates, lawyers, officers, etc, not to mention the lasting impressions of the attack for my daughter and granddaughter.
By the time we got in our cars to head home, I was beyond numb. Didn’t know what to feel or how to go about letting it out. There was anger, fear, sadness, an overwhelming need to protect, and so on. So many emotions swirling about as the world stood still yet continued on.
Physically, my daughter and granddaughter are fine, of far more concern are the lasting impressions the emotional aspect of this will cause. In the meantime, we’ll do what we need to follow through with holding the individual accountable and with picking up the broken pieces and moving on.
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