By: Lauren Spagnoletti
“He’s dead,” my brother said, as the phone in his hand slid into his lap and he reached for his brow, his head bowed. My face went numb, and then my whole body felt warm. All my organs twisted, and I was aware that the first stage of grief – denial – was descending upon me.
He’s can’t be dead, I thought. I didn’t say goodbye.
Freefalling while sitting in an armchair is possible.
There was no flashback of life’s most precious moments. Just a void. And the slow realization flooding my veins that I could never call my father again.