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Sara
One week without Peter.
It feels unreal, like a dream from which I’m waiting to wake up. Or maybe it’s the fact that I don’t sleep properly that gives my days this strange, dream-like quality. In some ways, it’s like I entered a time machine—I’m in a hospital, waiting for a loved one to recover from a debilitating car accident. Only that time, it was George who was the patient, and he never made it out of his coma.
Mom’s prognosis is much better. The doctors did a good job patching her up, and her wounds didn’t get infected. She’s still immobilized with all the casts, and she may never regain full use of her left arm—too many nerves and tendons were damaged there—but once her broken legs heal, with sufficient physical therapy, she should be able to walk again.
Dad is over the
