Post by @doctorhoeflinger

When my son died, I couldn’t sleep at night. So each night I would wake up in the middle of the night and write on my cellphone. After two months, I had written my book on capturing the raw emotion and pain of losing a child. I think it is a powerful and important read for anyone with children and have included the entire first chapter below. The Night He Died. “It was a Friday morning like so many in the past. I was the neurosurgeon on call for our group that particular day, February 1, 2013. I usually leave the house around 5:30 or 6 AM to get to the hospital to round on my patients and then be in the operating room or my office by 7:30, depending on the day. The house was dark and quiet, with everybody still sleeping as usual. My wife’s day usually started shortly thereafter. Cindy, a forensic pathologist by training, had retired to be a full-time mom to our four kids, Brian (18), Kevin (15), Julie (14) and Christie (11). I was lucky enough to miss the chaos of the morning with four teenagers all getting ready at the same time. Cindy typically got the kids up, made their lunches, made breakfast most mornings, and then made sure they all got to school on time—-a necessary routine for the three younger ones, but not for our oldest son, Brian, who was a senior in high school. Brian had gotten himself up since the sixth grade and had always been self-sufficient. He was a typical firstborn child, mature and responsible, and yet very much a creature of habit, often eating the same thing every morning for weeks on end. He had his own routine, which worked well for him during his first three years of high school. But in his last year, Brian had transferred from an all boys Catholic high school to the small high school in our neighborhood. This was the school system our other three children attended, and that meant he now had to drive both Kevin and Julie to school each morning. Julie had the bad habit of running late, which then interfered with Brian‘s last minute departing routine. This particular morning was no different, and Brian needed to hurry, as they were late for school. During the drive, he was pulled over by a police officer for speeding. When asked why he was speeding, Brian explained, “we’re going to be late to school because my sister made us late.” The policeman asked again, “why were you speeding?“. Brian again replied, “because my sister was late!“. The officer asked one more time, and by this time in the conversation, Brian must’ve started to get the hint that he needed to take responsibility for his actions, so he answered,“because we were late and I was driving too fast.“ The officer gave him a break by issuing him a warning rather than speeding ticket. The rest of the morning was fairly routine for all of us. The kids were in school, Cindy did chores at home, and I saw patients in the office. I took off work early this afternoon so I could be at an appointment at the pediatricians office with our youngest, Christie and my wife. Afterward, I drove home, while Cindy went to the pharmacy to pick up medication for Christie. On her way home, she reviewed all of the kids plans in her head for that night, including who needed a ride where and when. She called Brian to see if he could drop Kevin off at his JV basketball game, and Brian told her that he already had plans to go out to eat with a couple of friends. He also mentioned that Texas snowmobiler Caleb Moore had died. Cindy and Brian had watched Moore crash at the Winter X games on TV the week before while they were in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, for a college tour of the University of North Carolina, his first choice in colleges. Brian said it was the first time in his life that someone had died after he witnessed their injury on TV. This event seemed to shake him up and touch him in an odd way. Then he told his mom about the warning he had received that morning for speeding. Cindy reminded him about his Fender Bender in the Barnes & Noble parking lot the previous