I want my fear back

Before he died,

the worst thing that could happen

was still just something I was afraid of.

I would give anything

to go back to being afraid

of the life I'm living now.

I could panic when the phone rang too late.

I could imagine an accident

when he didn't answer.

I could lie awake

inventing disasters

and tell myself to stop

being ridiculous.

Then he would call.

Or come home.

Or tell me everything was fine.

And I would feel foolish

for letting my mind go there.

I would give anything

to feel foolish again.

Because I know now

what I didn't know then.

There is an enormous difference

between being terrified

your child might die

and being the parent

whose child did.

Fear needs a maybe.

It needs a phone that could still ring right,

a door that could still open.

I don't have a maybe anymore.

The worst thing already happened.

There's nothing left

for me to be afraid of.

So there's no fear left to carry...

just what's left after it.