Fifty-One Hours
And three people at a grief group that met on Thursday evenings in the basement of a Lutheran church on Mineral Point Road.
I went to that group for nine months.
Eleven of us at the largest, four at the smallest.
Perinatal and infant loss.
A facilitator named Bridget who was a volunteer and had lost a daughter in 2009.
And in that basement I said, out loud, more than once, in a circle of people who had all lost a child, that my son had died on the table and that I had never seen him.
Those people arranged themselves around that.