families, phone calls, death

my phone rang before 9am. it was mum. i knew it probably meant that someone was dead.

her voice wavered. my cousin lost his boy who would be 3 in august. he choked on an apple. her voice wavered. i didn't know what to say. it was a short conversation. my cousin called his mum (and she called my mum). "he tried to get it out." i thought she meant the words, to tell his mum that her grandson (his son) was dead. but she meant the apple. there was an ambulance. there was a death. there were scenes created in my imagination of screams and tears and phone voices choking on sadness. "i thought i better let you know. good bye." and mum was gone. an abrupt ending. was i not sad enough? did i say the right things? did she need to leave to cry?

i didn't know the boy that would be 3 in august. he was a twin. this brings more imaginative drama to the situation. a story, some film, where the protagonist has a dead twin so is forever incomplete. and i feel sad for the twin. but also for my cousin and his family. and also for my mum. because that child (also unknown to her) is a child that she undoubtedly thinks could have been her own grandchild. she could be the one making that call to her sister-in-law, who would then pass it on to the cousin (her son), spreading the news through the capillaries of the family.

my mum keeps a family tree. she found some computer software on which to do this. she also keeps a calendar with the birthdays and wedding anniversaries of every cousin, in-law, and blood relative. i don't know the child's name but it'll be there, somewhere in august.