#i2amru (I, Too, Am Reinhardt) Volume 1 Number 1 | Page 28

The
End of
Innocence
By Grant Sufferling
Sitting on the beautiful wraparound porch, I could see the
light rays cutting through the
trees. It was one of those
spring days where it
seemed like the stars
were in a line, and nothing could go wrong in
my life as a ten-year-old.

He replied with a short and abrupt
“Nothing!”
Walking through our home there
on Barnwood Terrace, the hardwood floors creaked and cracked
all the way to the kitchen. I bellied
up to the island bar in my kitchen,
where my mother was making
me lunch. As she slid a plate with
a freshly cooked grilled cheese in
front of me, I could see that she
was distraught. Her face was ghost
white, and her eyes appeared to be
red as if she had been crying.

We tried to catch the
salamanders and crawfish that hid under the
smooth river rocks and
raced around our feet. There was
a small waterfall there, only about
seven or eight feet tall, but it
was particularly beautiful on this
spring day. The way the water
rolled over the rocks seemed to be
soothing to the soul.
As we began our trek back to the
house for lunch, I could tell that
my older brother was distraught.
I asked him, “Whats’s wrong,
Blake?”

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I begged Blake to come and play
with me but it seemed that
my mother had infected him
with worrywarts. That didn’t
seem to stop this cowboy.

She hesitated and then replied.
Sharing her concerns with a ten
year-old must not have been an
easy thing to do.
“Grant, there is something that I
need to talk to you about. As you
know, your father was flying to
Greenwood, South Carolina, this
morning. Anyways, there is a story
on the news that just came up
about an airplane that went down

“Why, God? Why me? What did I
do to deserve this?” I kept asking
myself.
My house seemed to be dark. All
the sunlight that had been raining down on this beautiful day
was gone. The soothing tones of
the creek went mute. My body
went numb. I kept telling myself
that this couldn’t be real. Nothing
could happen to my dad--he was
my hero. He was invincible.

they were talking, her face went
ghost white, and tears started to
stream down her face.

“My biggest hero,
my father, was
gone
forever.”

My worst nightmare was coming
true. My biggest hero, my father,
was gone forever.

I thought to myself, as if speaking
to him, I’m never going to see you
again. This sent chills up my spine.

When I realized what was going
on, I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. I understood what was going on, but
I wasn’t able to wrap my head
around what had actually happened.

I could feel the darkness in the
house, almost as if there was an
evil presence. I went to go look for
my mother as the sun was setting,
but she was nowhere to be found.
My house had never seemed to be
so big.

I saw my mother walk out
of the house and meet the
officer in the driveway. As
I asked her, “Mom, are you okay?”

Seeing my mother like this made
me feel like my chest was caving
in. All I wanted to do was forget
about this whole thing, and that’s
exactly what I did. I went to sleep.

So, with that being said, I carried
on with my day, playing outside
with my bb gun pretending to be
cowboys and Indians. There wasn’t
a worry in my world.

Then, time seemed to stand
still as I saw the white and
black colors of the patrol car
flashing through the trees.
As it rolled slowly down the
long driveway, I remember
the sound of the acorns and
twigs breaking underneath
the tires as I ran in its direction.

My brother Blake and I
spent the entire morning
playing in the creek that
ran through the front
of our property. Even
though he was three
years older than me, he
treated me as if we were
equals.

She was clenching the shirt so
tightly in her hands, breathing it
in as if she were trying to wring
out every last bit of his being

outside of the airport he was landing at . I don’t know anything for
sure, but I didn’t want to keep you
in the dark.” She assured me that
everything would probably be okay
and that there was really no reason
to worry.

The last place I looked was my
parents’–now just my mother’s--bedroom. That hallway that
was only a few steps long leading
to my parent’s room turned into
my green mile. I could hear her
crying sobs piercing the walls as I
neared her room.
As I entered the room, I noticed
her perfectly made four-poster
king size bed, where I assumed
she would be lying. As I pushed
open her closet door, I saw my
helpless mother on the floor.
She was
curled up in
a ball on the
floor of my
father’s closet,
holding the
dirty shirt he
had worn the
day before.
Her face
was buried
in the coffee-stained
white Polo
button-up,
trying to get a
faint smell of
his scent.

Waking up the next morning, life
felt surreal. I had no tears to cry.
For just a brief moment, everything was still. I made eye contact
with my brother, but it felt as if he
looked right through me.
Floods of people started coming
to our home. People were constantly coming in and out.
I just wanted to lash out and tell
everyone to leave! They thought
they were helping, but they were
just making it worse, so I retreated to my room to be alone and
question why God takes from his
children. I just kept telling myself,
“There is a reason. I just don’t
know it yet.”

(Photos courtesy of Grant Sufferling)

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