“After Florida shooting, phones rang unanswered where victims fell…”
That’s all it took to evoke wracking sobs.
I already knew that seventeen lives had been lost in tragic violence but those words brought it home.
Because Dominic was killed in the wee hours of Saturday morning April 12, 2014 and had plans the next day with friends, his unanswered phone was the first clue for many of them that something was dreadfully wrong.
My poor surviving children were forced to field call after call, text after text: “I was trying to reach Dom but he’s not answering his phone. Is something wrong?”
Something is most definitely, awfully, irrevocably wrong.
I still have that phone. It’s still connected even though it’s laid silent for nearly four years.
I can’t give it up.
I can’t bear the thought of someone else’s voice being on the other end of that number.
It was probably the last thing he held in his hand.