Today, my sister Mary took Daniel and me to the license bureau so Daniel could get his driver’s education permit (yes, I am that old).
The last time I was at the license bureau was this past August, a few weeks after Pat died. I had to sign Pat off of the cars’ titles and registrations. That was excruciating.
Today, I was sitting at the bureau with Daniel in the exact same chair as I had sat back in August. I was remembering how I had broken down and cried in front of the BMV workers back then. I am so much stronger now, I thought.
Then, the worker asked Daniel if he wanted to be an organ donor. Daniel hesitated and asked for clarification. The woman explained in a perfunctory manner. An immediate, definite “Yes” came out of Daniel followed be a big lump swallowed in his throat. Then she asked if he wanted total or partial donation. . .
. . . Too much dwelling on an issue so raw and painful still.
I explained to the worker why her questioning was difficult for us. I broke down crying. I found myself signing all the documents with blurry eyes and convulsing hand. Just like last time.
Pat would want to be a part of Daniel’s hitting this milestone.