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February 04, 2006

Part One ..... The Call

The call came to my hotel room that Saturday but I wasn't’t there.  I had been in the room moments before putting the finishing touches on a speech I was to give later in the day with my older brother and my father. We had just left the room to get some lunch and picked a secluded spot in the back of the restaurant that overlooked the golf course whose lushness was in stark contrast to the Arizona desert that surrounded it.  We had a wonderful lunch we laughed, joked and made fun of one another the way only fathers and son’s can.  It was the last occasion I would laugh for a very long time.

I returned to the room with the intention of preparing for the presentation when I noticed the red message light flashing on the phone.   At first I thought it was a mistake…no one knew we were in this room, we were only using it temporarily.  I accessed the messages and was surprised that there were 5!!!!  How could there be 5 I thought, we were only gone for a short while?  I played the first message and it was the voice of a young lady from the front desk asking to speak with Mr. Manlove.  There were three Mr. Manloves in the room at that moment, my father, my older brother and me, so I was sure that the call could not be for me.  “Mr. Manlove” she began…haltingly at first her voice struggling to maintain composure, “I am sorry so sorry but you must call home right away, please…please let us help,” she pleaded, “We’re so sorry.”  Confused I deleted the message and went on to the next convinced that the calls were for my father… that something had happened to my step-mother.  But the next message was from my step- mother which perplexed me even more until I heard her say.  “Kim, you have to call Marissa on her cell, something has happened I am sooo sorry.”

I never listened to the rest of the messages, I dialed my wife’s cell phone as the fear rose in my chest and gripped my throat.  It was my older son that answered the phone, “Josh, its Dad, what’s going on, what’s happened.”   “It’s Dave” he sobbed into the phone his voice coming in waves at me, his words assaulting every fiber of my being, “It’s Dave Dad…Dave's dead.”

February 4, 2006 at 02:24 PM in The Unspeakable | Permalink

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