The news that comes at night.

I don’t really do phones.
There’s an internal part of me that rebels
against culture’s attachment to them,
so phones and I minimally intersect.
But my phone is my alarm clock,
so it is always near me when I sleep.
I know that is good
because if someone tries to reach me
in the silent hours of the night,
I know it is important
that I am connected.

But phone calls in the darkness
rarely bring good news;
good news can wait till the brightness
of the morning.

On August 5th, my phone rang at 2:21am
and as I was jarred awake from a deep sleep,
“HOME”
lit up the screen.
I answered,
“Hello?”
My mama’s voice shook on the other end,
“Noah was killed, he got hit by a car...”
The remaining shards of sleep instantly left me
and I was wide awake.
I think I said, “Oh no.”
I know I said, “I’m so sorry, Mama.
I’m so sorry.”
And because neither of us had anymore words,
we said, “I love you,”
and hung up the phone.

I sat for a brief moment on the bed in silence
before out of my mouth came a long wail;
it sounded hollow
with disbelief
it came from a place of foresight
currently numb to reality
but knowing the pain that was coming...

Nathan, who had woken up before I had hung up the phone,
now sat upright and asked me what had happened.
He rested his hand on my back
as I sat with one hand folded
around the phone in my lap
and one pressed against my mouth,
unable to speak.
My shoulders shook
until my cry abruptly stopped.

“Noah was killed,” I told him,
“He got hit by a car on his way to work.”
“I’m so glad I’m home.”

And suddenly my mind returned to my mama
whose aversion to phones I had inherited,
but who had dialed my number
in the dead of the night
to tell me that she and my papa had lost a third son,
and I was overwhelmed with sorrow and compassion for them.
What could I do?
How could I help?
I picked up the phone I had laid down,
grateful for its convenience and connectivity,
and I called home.

I had to wait till morning
when everyone would gather;
and because a person cannot fall back asleep
after the news that comes at night,
I did the only thing I knew to do...
in the stillness and darkness of those morning hours,
I prayed.