Questions

I sat with the understanding that turning over stones would only lead to more questions. Whoever held answers would likely take them to the grave.

We were approaching two months in limbo, and questions hung in the air like the silky strands of a spider’s web—invisible to the eye yet entangling me each time I passed by. I could feel the mysteries crawling over my skin, unable to shake them off. Each passing day brought more to contemplate, more to obsess over. But I was unable to delve into any of them without the single court document that would deem me sole executor of the estate.

I knew this paper would not bring the answers I desired. I’d spent many nights pondering the events that led to the accident. There was no reason to be on the roads at nearly 3 a.m. on a Wednesday—especially out where we lived, a largely desolate rural landscape where there was little to do during waking hours. I accepted that he had to have been out with someone. I accepted that I would never know more unless that someone came forward.