living

The board secretary, who is who answered the phone when I called the school, arrived first. She sat on the freezing ground with her arms around me. I watched Rolando's work pick up pull away from his mom's house. For the past two months he has been in the habit of getting coffee at his mom's then driving slowly by my house to see is Jason is outside smoking. If Jason is outside Rolando will stop and talk to him, keep him company in the morning.
He stops in front of me and asks if everything is ok. I shake my head and motion for him to get out and come to me. I tell him what has happened. I point to Jason. From the street we can see him through the doorway. "Ah shit" Rolando said. He wants to cut him down. I am not sure we should disturb him before the police and coroner arrive. Miss Universe comes, Rolando must have called her.  She asks who would like coffee or tea. Everybody declined except for me. I asked for tea. At this instant I realized I was still living. The police arrive. He hangs a blanket on the doorway. Rolando goes to the school to pick up the kids. The ambulance arrives, but we all have to wait for the coroner. I don't know why this takes over an hour, but it does.
After much crying and hugging the kids decide to walk back to the school and pick up their belongings. I am glad they leave. I do not want them to watch the body be cut down and leave in the ambulance. As they load up his body it strikes me that this is the last time I will be with my son. I follow the ambulance as it pulls away.
We all go to Rolando's and Miss Universe's house to call the rest of the family. While out on the street I keep thinking about the funeral. I cannot imagine having somebody who does not know Jason doing the service. Since it has been years since we have associated with a church, so I decide a preacher is unlikely. Then I remember that one of Jason's favorite teachers has retired and took a position as a Methodist minister. The high school gym seems a fitting place to say goodbye to our baby.
I realize that after three cups of tea I really need to use the bathroom. This one act seems pivotal to me. If I go that means I am moving on. I have always thought that if anything happened to one of my children I would just lie in bed and waste away. Suddenly it is time to make that decision. I go to the bathroom. I am moving on. Every mundane thing I do means I am living in a world in which my son is dead.