The One Who Hadn’t Stopped Looking
Three words that told me everything, that turned my brother-in-law from a grieving family member into something else entirely, in a single instant. He’s breathing.
We have a problem. I read it twice, to be certain. He’s breathing.
We have a problem. Not he’s alive, thank God. Not it’s a miracle. Not any of the things a brother would think or type or feel upon discovering that his sibling was not dead after all.
A problem.
My husband’s survival was, to the person who had just typed those words, a problem.
And there was a we.
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