His car ran down a steep embankment and caught fire. When rescuers finally managed to put out the fire, the authorities told our family that there was virtually nothing left to recover. We held a closed coffin funeral, and his loss gave me the impression of losing half of my identity.
It took me years of therapy to learn to live again. I ended up moving to a new city, I found a job and did my best to rebuild my life. I still miss her every day, but this acute and suffocating grief has gradually faded to give way to a dull pain.
Last Monday started like any other morning. I was sitting on the island of my kitchen, writing an email for work, when my mobile phone rang. The caller’s ID indicated a local professional number that I did not recognize. Thinking it was a reminder of the doctor’s appointment, I replied.
“Hello, is it Sarah? “Asked me a woman in a cheerful voice. “I call from the local dental clinic. »
“Yes, it’s me,” I replied.
“Great! Your sister, Clara, is here at the reception,” the woman in a casual tone told me. “She just finished her speech and she’s not doing well yet. Her phone is flat, but she had memorized your number as an emergency contact. She asked if you could come and get her. »
