It’s About the Dog
A short while ago, I wrote about finally cleaning out the boxes in my garage. The boxes of salvageable items from Starr’s car. Thankfully the police officer who gathered these items for us was careful and there wasn’t anything in the boxes that had blood or glass on them. I can’t say the same for the local coroner who handed me Starr’s purse and wallet, just days after the accident. I will always hate him just a little bit for that. It was his attitude and the things he said, like he was trying to do things to purposefully upset me. I was already upset. Hell, I am still upset.
The way he brought me to the back of his truck and opened the doors just so we could stand there by the gurney that had carried Sunny’s body. We didn’t need to be there, he already had Starr’s belongings in his hands. He then handed me the wallet and started picking bloody glass out of it while I was holding it. Tossing the bits, bits of Sunny, onto the parking lot while “apologizing” for having tinted windows in the back of the truck “but he needed them because of the types of things he carried back there.” Was he taking it upon himself to make sure that I knew something terrible had a happened? Trust me, I knew. Was it some sort of cruel punishment for being the parent of the survivor? It was cruel and I will never forget it.
*deep breath*
Back to the boxes. One of the items salvaged from the car, was this little stuffed dog. He was the girls constant companion. He was there for all the fun that they had and he was there when Sunny died. I have adopted him and he sits in my room, clearly visible at all times. He does bring back memories of Sunny with each and every glimpse, but for some reason he doesn’t make me sadder. I appreciate this token and the memories he carries. This dog will never be just another stuffed animal thrown in a drawer or box and forgotten.
He means something to me.
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