Wednesday, February 1, 2012

a continuing sah-gahhh

So I get a phone call from a Lead Investigator at the Sheriff's office about our case.  Good news is that they have been able to make an arrest in our case.  They found my son's suitcase at the house.  He asks if I can come down to identify it. 


So off I go, this morning....

Brave Little Toaster goes to the Law Enforcement Center.

I was wishing I had eaten a little something, as it is now 10 a.m. and my blood sugar has taken a little dive.  Or it could be a case of the nerves, dunno.  Either way my legs felt a bit like overcooked noodles.

Park.  Walk in.  Go through metal detector.  Go upstairs to the maze of doors and halls and people. 
Going to see a man about a suitcase.
Yeah, I'm pretty sure here's a joke in there somewhere.

After he shows me the mug shot of the man they have in custody, and the woman they are suspecting to be involved, I rack my brain to think if I had seen them before.  Perhaps the man has asked me if he and his brother could do some yardwork for us.  Interesting tidbit, the Investigator tells me that these people had a wounded pigeon living in the bathroom tub.  "Um.  What?  You mean to tell me that they are putting effort and energy into a sick bird, but aren't interested in the state of their own souls?"  I shake my head at the irony.

Then he pulls the suitcase out from underneath his desk.

I gasped.

How in the Name.Of.Creation. can someone do that much damage to a suitcase?  What.In.This.World?  Did they tie it to the back of a Jeep and go 4-wheelin'?  I opened it up.  There was an envelope with notes from a conversation I had with a friend back in September about the High School Auction. 
My brain was spiraling.
Where did that come from?!?
Was in in something they took?
Did they dig through my trash 4 months ago?

There was also a lens cover to my Really Great Camera.  And the "Handy Pocket Guide" as well.  Guess they didn't need that.

I opened up the first of two front pockets.  The bigger of the two was filled with soil.  Yes, soil.  The smaller of the two pockets was filled with ashes and cigarette butts.

He reassured me in that I was right not to want the suitcase and that there was a dumpster just outside in the parking lot.  I thanked him and me and my messed up suitcase along with my chow mein legs left the building.

But the long walk to that bin was a tough one.  It's only a suitcase.  It's only a suitcase.  Memories of Christmas morning a year ago flooding back.  It's only a suitcase.  It's only a suitcase.  Our dreams of wanting to go on a big trip one day.  Breathe.  Focus.

When I finally got there, tears started streaming down my face as I gently lifted it up and over into the dumpster.
It is only a suitcase.  I am not burying a child.  I must stay focused.  Come on, Toaster, hold it together.

1 comment:

Anita said...

I am sorry for your rough day! It is just a suitcase to the world, but to you it meant the hope of a happy trip and even happier memories to add to the wealth you've been blessed with. Toaster, there will be better and brighter days ahead. Hang in there!