A Grieving Father's Heartbreaking Journey

There is a common saying which most people nowadays have heard once or twice, “It’s quiet. Too quiet.”

Without a doubt, today painted the portrait that captivated the saying in all aspects. Funerals were normally quiet, but it is definitely another story when it’s the funeral of a family member. There are always people asking the family who suffered the loss how they are or how they are holding up. They offer condolences and ask if there is anything that they can do to help. However, when you are the one being talked to, you kind of shut off the conversation module in your brain and you don’t really pay much attention. It isn’t that you won’t pay attention really, but you physically cannot keep your head concentrated on your surroundings.

There were several people who came up to me and my daughter Kerry with the intentions to fit the norm of any funeral setting. We kept our manners and thanked everybody for coming and for their respects. But, both of us were lost in our thoughts, which were still trying to accept the fact that this was really happening. It had been only 6 days since my wife Sarah was killed by a drunk driver when she was on her way back from the grocery store. I had received the call from the police while I was at work. I am a mechanical engineer for a company which manufactured engines for commercial vehicles. I had only been at work for half a day when I received the news that the woman I loved for the past 15 years was gone from my life.

Kerry, on the other hand, was at school when the principal came into her 4th grade class and took her aside. He had led her down to his office where there was a police officer waiting for her, telling her that I would be coming down to pick her up from school early. He didn’t have the heart to tell a nervous little girl that her mother, who loved her more than anything in the world, was gone. Kerry was an adorable little girl. Short brown hair, long enough still to pull into a small ponytail, big blue eyes with cute light freckles right below them, and a smile, which although had a couple crooked teeth, could warm your heart with ease. There was not a smile on her face on that day, however.

I arrived at her school and Kerry immediately knew something was wrong, because I didn’t greet her with a smile and a big bear hug. I loved my daughter more than air and I never hesitated to tell her every chance I got. Sarah did the same. We both came from broken homes, with my father being an drunk and my mother being completely out of the picture, and Sarah’s parents being neglectful and abusive people who both used cocaine. I had met her when I was 16, two years her senior. I was a football player for our high school and she was the stunning freshman that everybody wanted. Despite coming from a rough home-life, she was naturally pretty. We eventually became high school sweethearts after I sat next to her in the cafeteria and had chatted her up until the bell rang. The years went by, and I went off to college, with a generous scholarship I had earned from my participation in the honors programs and classes. We never made love in fear that her parents or my father would find out. Not until her 18th birthday, at least, when she moved into my apartment with me.

As fate would have it, Sarah was pregnant soon after. Luckily, it was at

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