Within a few hours of submitting my story about the Boblo Boat, I had booked a flight to Detroit, where the SS Columbia documentary was being filmed. It was Tuesday, and they had selected my story and scheduled the interview for coming Saturday. Everything fell into place so seamlessly, I couldn’t help but think it was all supposed to happen.
I had a day to get ready; look through old letters, dig out the stuffed bunny Mike won me, make arrangements for the kids while I was gone, grocery shop, laundry, keep stuffed bunny away from the dog, and pack for a 5 day trip. I flew through my chores, and finally ready to go, collapsed into bed with my laptop the night before my flight. At which point, my brain started to kick into high gear.
I read my blog. I re-read it. I thought about Mike’s family, whom I hadn’t spoken to in years. At some point, towards the end of my college career, we had parted ways. It felt as though I would always be a reminder of where their son would be in life had he lived, and it was keeping me from moving on with my life. Now that I’m a parent, I can’t fathom losing a child. I would imagine it is something that they (try not to) think about every day. I was just the girlfriend, and it was easy enough to move on with my life once I made the decision to.
But what if they came across this documentary at some point? They would want to know, wouldn’t they? They should know, I thought. I began to super-sleuth.
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