Empty Shoes - 2. Chapter 2

Babushka’s, what’s not to love? The other shoe drops, and remember to duck!

The last year and a half of Junior High School saw a marked improvement in Evan and Micha, while already honor students, they soon became high honor roll students and a transitioning into advanced placement classes. Their golfing showed the same steady increase in abilities. We came to realize that Evan and Micha were pushing themselves to do better. They were serious about their school work, as much as their golf. They were a quiet couple, did nothing to draw attention, or so we thought, to their liaison. As much as possible they kept outward signs of affection toned down when outside of our house. We thought all was well till Jacob Zavin asked to meet me.

***

We agreed to meet at Paulies, a local breakfast joint at 10 AM the following morning. The boys would be soon joining the 8^th grade, summer was rapidly coming to a close. Jacob was insistent we meet alone and with some trepidation I agreed.

I shared the news with Mary Ellen and we feared the worse and if it came to that, we would find a way to take Micha into our home. I promised to call her once the meeting was over.

I arrived shortly before Jacob and watching him arrive you could see the tension and worry on his face. I stood up to greet him and as we both sat the pleasantries were quickly dispensed as our coffee and muffins arrived.

Jacob, if nothing else was forthright, direct and to the point. He asked me if I was concerned with the boy’s relationship to each other. I looked back quizzically and asked what did he mean?

He produced a letter written early in their relationship that Micha had written and was intending to send to Evan in the event their relationship faltered or failed. Obviously, it was written some months ago and the need to send it never materialized. It had fallen out of a shirt pocket that was in the laundry pile.

In a roundabout way Jacob wanted to know what I thought about homosexuals, before I could answer he aske me to begrudge him a moment. From an old weathered envelope, he brought out a faded picture from I was to learn, his mother. He asked me to look at the picture closely. On her left arm, inside just above the wrist were several numbers tattooed.

It was with revulsion that I knew at once what those numbers meant, more than that, his mother must have been a young girl at the time and that she had survived the depredations and horror of a concentration camp.

Jacob, his eyes moist and threatening to spill over, told me a bit about Micha, that he was a surprise, a late baby…surely a gift, a gift from our creator. No baby was better loved, treasured, or cared for.

There was a lesson in that picture of Micha’s grandmother, neither Jacob or his wife Ruth could ever deny their son, he was as God intended. In such a world, not so far from the horrors of his mother’s past, the issue Jacob asked, what were our thoughts, could we reject our son for loving another boy?

Reaching across the table I took Jacob’s hands into mine. I told him of our ten years of trying, of finally being blessed, of the joy, trials, and tribulations in raising Evan. That Mary Ellen and I could not comprehend our lives without him, notwithstanding whom he loved.

I came clean, I told Jacob of our suspicions, my bet with Mary Ellen and yes…the picture which I promised to share of the two boys in bed. How Evan and Micha came out, announced to their love for each other.

He laughed with great joy when I summarized Mary Ellen’s lesions on the mechanics of gay sex, the graphic terminology and detailed descriptions that had the boys hiding their faces. Our insistence that the boys were now responsible for the cleaning of their personal space, bedding and clothing. And, amazingly how spotless they kept the bathroom on their own volition.

Oh, such joy Jacob told me, that we’ll have watching these two set the world on fire, what a delight to have them. When Micha’s grandmother Miriam first held him, she said an old Ukrainian Yiddish blessing. Once done she closed her eyes and spoke softly over Micha an old gypsy prayer she announced to all present, the boy was different and destined for great things. Her family had been travelers’ generations past and never completely renounced the old ways.

***

I think we were both spent that morning, our common worries faded away. I explained that Mary Ellen was fraught with worry over our discussion and I needed to call her to let her know all was ok.

It was a quick call and at Mary Ellen’s insistence I handed the phone to Jacob after putting it on speaker. Jacob was to bring his family to dinner the following night, all those who could attend were welcome. After a few minutes the time was agreed on. Menu would be nothing fancy, a goulash and sides. Jacob would be bringing everyone at home but the two oldest siblings, as they were off to school.

At the appointed hour Jacob along with Ruth and Micha arrived bringing Miriam, a slight and sprightly 95 years young as she insisted. We were overwhelmed and honored as she graced our home.

We menfolk were relegated to the den as the ladies departed for the kitchen. Micha, along with Evan quietly had the discussion with his parents the night before and was greatly relieved. He was however nervous as to how his grandmother would take the news and asked that it be kept quiet, till they have the proper moment to have that discussion.

The meal was superb and the conversation light and everyone enjoyed themselves. Miriam was a delight as she entertained us with some of her family’s geology and life in the old world. Once the table was cleared by the boys we retired to the den. Upon request a gin and tonic was produced for Miriam. As she settled and got comfortable, she asked Evan to call her Babushka, a respectful term meaning grandmother.

She held her hand out to Evan and as he grasped it, Miriam appeared to drift away for a moment, as she cleared her head shaking it slightly. Taking another sip of her gin and tonic she cleared he throat, looking directly at Evan and as if no one else were in the room she asked, “You love my grandson deeply, do you not?”

Entranced Evan replied, “Yes Babushka I do.”

“Micha, please tell me of your love for this boy.”

“I love him with all my heart.” Micha replied equally entranced.

“Come over and take my other hand Micha, let this old woman bless you and Evan.”

As Micha came over to her, he took Evan’s free hand and together they knelt before her. Taking her hand, it was if all three were somewhere else. Miriam spoke tenderly in what appeared a mixture of old Ukrainian and another tongue. Her back stiffened and her face lost its color. She shook her head and as if arguing with someone or somebody she emphatically said NO to whomever she was conversing with.

Trance broken she spoke to the boys and imparted her blessing. “The two of you are destined to do great things and while your love is unconventional, it is right and proper. Ignore the insults of those who would drag you down, always rise above the petty. Lead by example, love wholly and unconditionally. Never let disagreements fester, understand that the needs of your partner always come first. But above all, love without reservation or hesitation.”

Looking directly at Evan she continued, “There is darkness in your path that you will twice overcome, the world can be ugly and with Micha at your side you will prevail. Remember this above all else, you have hands of gold.”

Turning to Micha she said, “You too are destined for greatness through your connection with Evan, I see it now. The world will watch you and admire your strength in adversity. I don’t know why this is important but you must heed this…at the right time you will know why…remember to duck.”

The spell was broken and she pulled the boys closer to kiss their foreheads. Looking at the rest of us, she begged our indulgence. She filled us in a bit more of her family’s past, that she was at least half gypsy, her father, the seventh son of a seventh son was noted for his second sight.

It was not infallible she told us, many times the events portended failed to materialize or interpreted faultily. We briefly touched on her time in the concentration camps and Evan was allowed to examine her tattoo he was in awe and spellbound with this great lady. Too soon the evening came to pass, the boys thanked Miriam for her blessings and that they would heed her warnings.

                                                                                                         *******

I wake up in the morning and I wonder

Why everything is the same as it was

I can’t understand, no I can’t understand

How life goes on the way it does

Why does my heart go on beating

Why do these eyes of mine cry

Don’t they know it’s the end of the world

It ended when you said goodbye*

Skeeter Davis, ‘It’s The End Of The World”

Lyrics and music by Arthur Kent and Sylvia Dee

8^th grade started off with a bang for Evan and Micha. For the fall golf league, they found that half their time would be spent with the varsity team. Academically they picked up right where they left off. Weekend mornings found themselves up before dawn and rousting me from my slumbers to deliver them to the greenskeeper’s shack.

They learned to become wrench and grease monkeys. They could break down carburetors and engines, swap out golf cart batteries and clean the same. Again, they refused pay for the chance to play the course. As their skill and talent showed improvement, they occasionally were placed in matches that would benefit them by the club pro.

Unknown to either of the boys, wagers would be placed on the outcome of those matches. Any time the boys won their match based on handicap; the winnings went into a fund that would be given to them later. Additionally, actual hours worked were tracked, and those earnings were saved to the fund as well. The intention was to send them off to college with those funds. The grounds crew weren’t fools, an insular group in a highly demanding profession, they came to cherish the boys. They respected the lack of attitude, their manners and willingness to work any part of the course and where ever needed. The only duties they were refused were working evening functions where the booze would be flowing.

The fall golf season came and went much too quickly for the Evan and Micha and while the spring season was coming, they found time to keep their game sharp. The varsity coach gave both boys individual exercise regimens to follow.

They started hitting the facilities at school to work out. They were respectful of the upperclassmen who were on the golf team and a couple of seniors took them under their wings.

***

The holidays flew by and the winter snows finally melted, the shoulder season seemed interminability too long. Spring is fickle in Massachusetts, no sooner was the frost out of the ground, the spring rains came. Nevertheless, the boys soon found themselves back at the golf club, swinging wrenches and servicing all the equipment in anticipation of opening day.

Wherever you saw one the other was sure to follow, the boys now alternated weekends between both houses and kept to the same rules. They were appreciative of the trust given and were determined to keep it.

Miriam was delighted to host the boys in her in-law apartment and the boys doted on their Babushka. There was never a repeat of her premonitions and they were soon forgotten.

The shortened spring golf season at the school was a resounding success, in double match play on the JV team, they were undefeated. When they played with the varsity, they lost as many as they won. It was a great test for them, playing against older, more experienced boys.

The school year rapidly came to a close, they aced their courses, remaining on the high honor roll. They worked out a schedule with both sets of parents that allowed for household chores at both houses and work at the golf course. In addition to all of this was the exercise program the coach wanted them to follow. With the school facilities off limits for the summer, Jacob and I split the cost of the basic equipment necessary and split it between both houses.

Both Evan and Micha grew in their love for each other. Many a summer morning they would beat me to the bathroom and as I finished there were tell-tale sounds coming from the bedroom, I chose to believe they were starting the day in a beneficial manner. It certainly didn’t hurt their appetites judging by the sheer quantity of food consumed at the breakfast table.

Life was good, if only we could stop the march of time. Shortly before school started up again Miriam passed quietly away in her sleep. Despite the early years, her life was rich in love and years well lived. Her funeral was a simple affair and we were floored when both Micha and Evan were remembered in her will with a generous bequest.

Just like the previous year the school year started off with a bang. They were in the big school and thrived academically, they struggled at first as varsity golfers, needing to earn their spots. Course work was more intense, many an evening was spent after supper at the kitchen table plowing through their homework.

It was late October when Mary Ellen started feeling poorly, after three days I convinced her to see her doctor. Initially the doctor was confident that it would pass but to be on the safe side, he scheduled Mary Ellen for a battery of gastrointestinal tests.

The results of those tests shook me to the very foundations of my core. I couldn’t understand it or process it. The prognosis was a few weeks at best. Jacob, Ruth, and Micha were a godsend for the both of us. Quietly in the background they allowed us the time to come to terms with the inevitable.

Mary Ellen quickly came to terms, much faster than anyone else. She did her best and she spent an inordinate amount of time with Evan. She worked with him to accept reality; it was ok to grieve but he had to move forward. For all intents and purposes Micha moved in with us. He kept Evan focused and on track, held him when he needed him to. Evan also became my shadow, needing my constant reassurance and closeness. Both he and Micha were always at my side when we were home or the hospital.

When it was clear the end was now days, Mary Ellen was moved to hospice. She asked the medication to help with the pain be kept to the barest minimum, she wanted to be clear headed up to the end. A day before she passed, she asked to see each of us separately.

She made Micha promise to keep Evan going, to let him grieve but to continue to live and excel. That she loved him like a second son and was so very proud of him and that he would grow into a fine young man and companion for Evan.

Mary Ellen made Evan promise to buck up, if her life were to have any meaning, he needed to continue the path he and Micha chose. She would always watch over him and to do her proud.

My wife of over 25 years did her best to console me, she would not have traded any part of it for what she had. That she loved me, her sons and our life together, was her greatest reward.

Mary Ellen’s cancer proved to be too much, she lost consciousness shortly after speaking with us that last time and died the following day, peacefully in her sleep. What I hadn’t known was the effort the extended family put forth. That afternoon as we were leaving the hospice, I saw my Uncles Arik and Ethan waiting beside our car.

The family had been told of course and updates were posted as Mary Ellen’s condition changed. My extended family was rather large, and Mary Ellen’s was scattered to the winds. She was the only child and her parents died in a car crash when Evan was ten years old.

They had been held up in traffic Uncle Arik explained as he gathered us in his arms one by one, Uncle Ethan came to my side as well. They let me know they would take care of everything. They asked would be there anything I wanted or needed in way Mary Ellen’s last wishes.

All we needed was simple and quiet, nothing extravagant. Uncle Arik nodded and placed a finger to my lips, very quietly he told me that family does for family. He let me go with the admonition that my only concern was my son and his boyfriend.

I was later to find out that Mary Ellen and Uncle Arik had corresponded over the years and a bit more frequently during her brief illness. Shortly after marrying we had a chance to spend time up at Maple Hollow, the family farm in Hutchinson a small town in central Massachusetts.

As a child, like the other grandchildren, I had spent parts of every summer at Maple Hollow. Some of my favorite memories were time spent out at the cabin on Ant Island and Christmas in the converted barn’s great room.

I was told unless I had any objection, the memorial service would take place up at the farm and her interment in the family cemetery, it realistically was the only place large enough for the extended family.

While her funeral was somber to say the least, my extended family showed up and sad to say, uncles, aunts, and cousins I had not seen for so many years. Once the memorial service was over, I was stunned to hear my cousin Gustin begin to sing.

Gustin had lost his mother to a brain hemorrhage shortly before he won American Starmaker as a young teen. He had gone on to become a multi-platinum recording artist and not without some controversy. His sell by date had come and gone several years ago, he continued to record and tour sporadically as his fan base grew up. Oddly, he along with some other musical artists, were becoming current again as our generation found nostalgia for the days of our youth.

He had asked my Uncle Arik if he could sing a couple of songs, I would find meaningful. When he finished with Amazing Grace and Will the Circle Be Unbroken, there wasn’t a dry eye to be seen. When I had a chance to talk to him and thank him, and I knew he was on reunion tour in Europe, he simply said, family does for family. He also told me he was taking Evan and Micha for a bit out to the cabin on Ant Island as they now shared a commonality.

***

We started to spend the remainder of the following school year in a fog until we found the first note. Mary Ellen spent after her diagnosis, as much time as she could at home and was there until it was time for hospice. Where she found the time to hide the dozens of notes to the three of us is beyond my ability to fathom. They were memorable, funny, and sometimes borderline salacious. To this day I am not sure we have found them all.

Evan found the first one in his underwear drawer. Tucked between his socks and boxers was a note letting him know that while she was watching over him, she was otherwise occupied last night and may have missed the goings on.

I was finishing in the shower as Micha was emptying his bladder. Evan was alternately laughing and crying as he came into the bathroom holding the note for us to read, the boys looked at each other and blushed and I started laughing my head off. It was cathartic and therapeutic. A dam had broken, a tiny ray of sunshine had reignited the light of our lives.

Spring came back into our lives after a bitter winter. Evan took to heart his mother’s final words of advice. With an assist from Micha, Evan rededicated his life and got back on track. Me…it was taking time and I needed time to process this change. I knew Mary Ellen would not want me to waste away or become a hermit and I began the process of living again.

***

Things got sorted and life while different, took on a routine we all fell into. Evan and Micha took on more of the household chores including easy to make suppers. Those suppers led to our adjustment with the new reality of the household. Evan was more tactile, opting to do his best to lift my spirits.

Shortly before the end of the school year I had found another of Mary Ellen’s notes, in so many words she reaffirmed her faith in me and that my immediate future would change for the good.

Two days later I was called into a meeting, I had been named acting superintendent while as principal for our high school, when our current superintendent retired unexpectedly for reasons due to poor health. I was told, with a nudge and a wink, after an exhaustive search I would be promoted to the position, my assistant principal would be promoted to principal.

While I would miss Evan and Micha’s high school years as a principal, it would eliminate a needless distraction. I knew there wouldn’t be any issues with the two of them. The added bonus was the salary increase would certainly augment our finances for the better.

Before we knew it, summer was here and all of us heading in multiple directions. While we made time for each other, evening meals were sacrosanct. Many an evening Jacob and Ruth came for super and praised the boys for their efforts, their growing skills in the kitchen attested to that praise.

We were all so busy we realized too late, that the start of the school year was upon us before we knew it, Evan and Micha would be rising sophomores and all the adventures that would bring. They would no longer be the rookies on the golf team but seasoned veterans. There was a strong chance they could qualify for the state tournament and compete for a state title.

I bought a small compact digital camera for Evan at the start of his sophomore year so he could keep a record of the different golf courses he would play during the fall season, there was a good chance the state championships would be played on one of these courses as the golfers would be too familiar with the courses used for the spring season.

Transitioning into the superintendent’s role was a cinch, I knew what had to be done and the staff knew their roles. There were always the minor infractions to sort out, adjust schedules, reassign teachers and deal with all kinds of other issues. The least pleasant part of the job was upholding discipline when it needed to be meted out.

This latest case was disturbing, it seemed a couple of senior jocks took out their personal animosity on a Freshman from the Theater Arts Department. It was ugly once the facts were known. They had beaten the kid to an inch of his life and then sodomized him and not for the first time as it turned out. There were suspicions it was due to roid rage but the jocks family had lawyered up and at this point nothing could be proven.

The assailants were arrested, booked and despite all efforts released on bail in the care of their parents, who weren’t without some political influence. As expected, the rumor mill went into overdrive and many tales were told out of school.

As the two miscreants sat and fumed, embellished tales of their depravity reached their no so innocent ears, they were enraged that little faggot punk was causing all this trouble. Now it was time to make someone pay was their excuse. They would settle scores and they planned just how to do that as they continued to bulk up for the football team.

What we didn’t know at the time, was that they had access to guns.

Amazing Grace

It was a bright and sunny late fall day in October, peak foliage season in New England was a week late this year and the temps had been unseasonably warm, many of the trees still held their color and blanketed the landscape with their rich hues of fiery colors.

Homecoming was less than a week away and the student body was excited, there was a buzz in the air and all were looking forward to the football game and the dance afterwards. It was during second lunch in the cafeteria, with all the commotion of students coming and going, that no one noticed the two expelled students enter the cafeteria.

Evan and Micha had just gotten to their seats when all hell broke out, at first it sounded like a string of firecrackers going off. Then bodies started to fall and blood splatter was everywhere. It was pure pandemonium with students milling around in confusion trying to figure the way out to safety.

If there was a saving grace, the two knuckleheads only had enough clips to reload the assault rifle twice and the 22-caliber pistol once. Ethan screamed for Micha to duck as he took his tablet like a frisbee and hit one of the assailants square off the temple, dropping him and the rifle instantly. Turning, the second assailant spotted Evan and fired off two shots from the 22-caliber pistol. The baseball team, who sitting as a group witnessing the bloodbath in front of them, were able to rush from behind and disable the second assailant.

I know this from the security videos, what I did not know at the time, was what happened to Evan, how badly was he hurt. Once the news came that there was a mass shooting at the high school, I knew I was stuck, locked down in my office till I could get down to the cafeteria. Until the scene of the crime was contained, I could not get to my son, I thought my head would implode.

Carnage is a polite word to use when discussing the horrifying, it allows for polite society to come to terms in rationalizing the ‘disturbing’ news. It was an event that happened somewhere else for most. It doesn’t come close to describing the awful reality.

We would learn later those thirty-four kids, someone’s children, were shot that day, twenty-seven of them died from their wounds.

These numbers shouldn’t be a statistic to be added to some roll of children who died in other school or mass shootings, to be discussed by so-called experts debating the reasons in that rarefied atmosphere of a TV studio or a newsroom full of print. By the time this was a forgotten memory, the blame would always lay elsewhere rather than where it belonged.

Those who shouldn’t have access to guns were irresponsibly given it.

Thirty-four students were shot that day, twenty-seven died, didn’t anyone care enough to do something about it?

***

I had to push all of my instinctive reactions, my rage, in the background, more than my sons are involved, there are other students, other families. It strikes me…I think of Micha as my son, my concern for him is as overpowering as it is for Evan.

I am waiting for then police escort that will take me to the cafeteria and past the hordes of media all wanting instant reaction, an instant fix on the devastating news of today.

I’ve got ten minutes I’m told, ten minutes in a hellish eternity of unbearable sadness and frustration. I need to know, know something, something I can hang onto, a glimmer of hope, a fucking beacon in the distance, Jesus Fucking Christ…give me something…something I can grasp on to. My sons, oh dear God in heaven, my sons lay on that floor.

I can’t help myself; it’s been well over an hour and I am stuck here in my office, I pull up the footage from the security cameras. It’s all there in digital color format, I see the two shooters start firing, I see the bodies falling, Evan turning to Micha, his face contorted with the urgency as he yells at him, I see Micha duck under the cafeteria table as Evan flings his tablet. The tablet hits one of the shooters square off the side of the head. I watch the shooter go down as the second turns and clearly fires two shots at Evan as he’s taken down by the members of the baseball team.

I see Evan’s body crumple as he falls out of sight and I realize this ain’t Hollywood, dying from a gunshot ain’t pretty.

It’s been an hour and a half; my escort is needed elsewhere as the magnitude slowly unfolds in the cafeteria. The officials need time to process and clear the scene, it is understandable.

I’m watching the security cameras when the first responders reach Evan and Micha. Micha is holding on to Evan’s leg and won’t let go as they get ready to place my son on a gurney, his head is a bloody mess as they rush out of the cafeteria.

Someone somewhere is causing a commotion outside my office, they are insistent, strident if I hear their voices correctly, my administrative assistant is flustered and as I process this latest event, I see my uncles come through the door.

There’s nothing I can say, my mind is a blank, they wrap me up in their arms as I let it out, give in to my deepest, basest fears. They see the video feed on my monitor, I have the loop of the shooting running on one screen, as the live feed is playing on the other. They’ve turned me away from the images, those forever seared in my memory, sights I will never, ever and cannot forget. This day has indelibly marked itself in the very fabric of my being.

They have taken me to my bathroom, allowed me to wretch my guts out and clean me up. Somehow, they have returned me to the land of the living, I have responsibilities now, the fate of my sons is out of my hands. I must trust and have faith I am reminded, and it escaped me somehow as it is pointed out to me, to have rushed Evan out of the cafeteria meant he wasn’t amongst those who were beyond help, despite my relief, it is small cold comfort.

***

I’m in the waiting room, I’ve done the press conference, told them nothing and everything at the same time. I’ve begged the listening audience to find a way to donate blood, it is urgently needed. I’ve told the listening audience we talk tomorrow when we can address all questions.

Micha sits next to me; he won’t let go. Jacob and Ruth are with my uncles. We’re a somber bunch, it has taken me an hour to bring Micha to the bathroom to clean the blood…Evan’s blood…as best I can. His face and hands are clean and he refuses to change out of his clothes for fresh ones. I’ve learned from Micha that Evan did yell at him to duck and he had but a fraction of a second to get out of the way as Ethan’s tablet went sailing over his head.

He described the sequencing of events from his vantage point on the floor as Ethan first was hit in the head and then the inside of the upper thigh. It had happened so fast, no sooner had he witnessed Evan being hit then he was on the floor. Micha’s freshman first aid class had covered different types of wounds and how to apply proper first aid. It was abundantly clear to Micha that the wound to the upper thigh was of paramount concern, he was bleeding dark arterial blood.

Someone handed him part of a ripped tee shirt and he took his belt to use as a tourniquet. That same student used the remainder of the tee shirt and some bottled water to gently clean as best they could Evan’s head and apply pressure to stop the bleeding.

I’m processing all of this when Micha shows me for the first time, the picture he and Evan took to complement the one I took the day I found out we were having a baby. It’s the same picture of my shoes, the day I learned we were pregnant. Somehow the boys have been able to transpose Evan’s silhouette as if it is standing in those shoes. He’s trying to reassure me, to tell me things will be fine.

The boys were so proud of that picture, it was the same but different, I am told it was photoshopped but the image was striking, they took the picture the very first rainy day of their sophomore year. Both boys knew by now what my picture taken so many years ago meant, that after years of trying we were blessed with Evan. And in their picture, they were trying to show the child to be.

***

The door to the waiting room opens and a team of surgeons come in, they have been through hell and it shows. We all know their night isn’t over by a longshot. I suspect we aren’t the first family they have had to talk to this evening. Their scrubs bear silent witness to the herculean efforts they’ve been tasked with.

The lead surgeon approaches me and as he forms the question, I let him know this is my family and to let us know the finality or the prognosis.

He won’t sugar coat it he tells us, Evan lost a lot of blood, quite frankly far too much. If it weren’t for a student having the presence of mind to apply the tourniquet, Evan would not be here with us. Ruth gasps as she looks toward her son and I squeeze him tightly to my chest.

As quickly as we inhale with relief the surgeon mentions the head wound and asks the doctor standing beside him to address that. What we can infer is that the first shot that hit Evan did so while his mouth was open, the bullet passed through his cheek just above the jaw bone and exited down and out the other side through the side of his mouth, grazing his throat and shoulder, missing any other part of the body. The plastic surgeons believe they can minimize the scarring to the outside of his cheek and throat

I ask to see him and I am told he will be moved to intensive care as a precaution shortly, once he is settled in only two of us will be allowed in. All other visitors will have to wait till the following day.

I thank the doctors and surgeons profusely as they leave the room, as they do I look at Ruth and both of us voice the same thought…Miriam.