Even though I did my very best to walk with the most confidence I had ever displayed, I felt my knees begin to buckle as the door to the office closed behind me. Silently willing myself to make it the few hundred feet to the car without falling, I carried on.

It seemed that I had reached the car just in time, as I plopped myself down in the drivers seat and carefully secured my purse to the passengers side. I sat for a moment in silence, unable to even formulate thoughts of words that described what had just happened in there. Suddenly, I was brought back to words my father had written me year back. “I made a promise that in times of grief and sorrow I would hold you and rock you, take your pain and make it my own; when you cried, I too would cry, and when you hurt, I too would hurt. And together we would hold back the floods of tears and despair, and it through the potholed streets of life together.”  I brought my knees into my chest right there in the car and rocked back and forth. I don’t know if I thought I would suddenly feel his arms around me, or if I was just searching for a way to feel something other than pain and anger; but there I sat rocking. What the hell Dad? You said we would do this together, that we could only making it through all of the pain of life together; and here I am rocking myself.

Be it divine intervention, or maybe just good timing, I heard my phone buzz in my purse. I pulled it out to see that there was a voicemail left from my mom; finally a message I wanted to hear. I tapped the speaker button and listened to the methodical voice of my mom sing over my phone; and a calming sensation began to cease my rocking. She was on her way here to be with me. She was not going to make it to the florist, but she would be there for the funeral home appointment. I let out a loud groan; here I was thinking the florist was going to be the hardest part of today, imagine that.

Noticing the time, I started the car to head back to Kim’s. I needed to relieve my purse of it’s current secret service duty before going anyplace else and it was nearing on 12:30. As I drove I continuously replayed the most current events in my mind. I kept seeing McCraben’s haughty smile starring at me as she tried to make me believe that she was somehow more important to him than I was. I thought of how I felt being there, in his office and having to listen to her ridiculous rants and watching each deceptive tear fall from her giant bug eyes. Seriously though, who in the world kept letting me drive?

Only by the grace of God himself I am sure, I once again pulled into Kim’s driveway without a scratch (on the car of course, I would have never let McCraben hold a finger to me). I entered the house and followed Kim to her room. I handed over the contents of my purse with a small sense of victory; we had at least accomplished one thing so far. As I thought the words to myself, “accomplished, victory” I realized for the first time that this was not a series of events that we were dealing with during our time of grief; this was going to be a full fledged war.

“It’s time to head to the florist,” Kim’s words had interrupted my new realizations which was probably a good thing.  “I’ll drive,” she offered. Thank goodness! Someone finally made a good decision that would ultimately save the lives countless drivers in the city of Rochester. Without a protest, I followed her outside, along with Nana and Kiera. I listened more to the hum drum of the car and the splashing sounds it made as it cruised through the giant puddles that were the remnants of some recent snowfall. The drive to the florist was short; Seriously, if you don’t live in Rochester you rally don’t understand; it is the biggest small town, and it was starting to feel a whole lot smaller these days.