When I was in that room I wanted you to be there, so I could hold you and feel the warmth of a living, breathing, healthy human who I trusted with all my heart. But that wasn't possible, so I held my white coat and kept my eyes open and breathed.
When she brought us to the next room, it was just a number. When she told us to be ready, that we had an option whether or not to go in, my heart sank.
It's ridiculous, but I was somehow expecting him to be healthy. She told us he was young, and I pictured an ordinary looking boy. So I wasn't expecting it. So I had a shock.
I kinda think that something about the way I see people is changing, and I'm not sure I'm happy about it. I guess I just wanted to write this all down so in the future this will hopefully all make some sense.
And I can't talk about it, not really, not to my parents either, because it's true about what they say - no one is really going to understand. This is all overly melodramatic, even to me, and I wonder if truth can actually be stranger than fiction?