Photo by ika dam on Unsplash

“Come take the big brown bag,” Bode said. My nine-year-old son had grown so fast, I never imagined a world where he would be able to speak again. It was a miracle, born deformed with undeveloped jaws, the doctors decided to take a risk with him. They induced him in a comma and carried our endoscopic surgery on an 8-month-old baby. We were worried sick about our infant, 3 months after the surgery and his body began to heal. He was able to feed without a tube down his throat. He is really a miracle child.

I grabbed my brown bag and headed to the door, as I turned the door noob, I heard a loud bang. The ceiling had collapsed and lying within the debris was Bode. My body froze as I saw his cracked skull exposing parts of his brain and eyes hanging from its socket. The ceiling had cut right through his head. I stood there for 4 more seconds it felt like a lifetime before I got a hold of myself and called emergency services.

An hour later they arrive to access if there was going to be any more collapse as they wrap Bode in a bag. I was still in disbelief, my wife had rushed down as soon as she heard about the accident. She kept on wailing, screaming, cursing and begging God to “bring my son back”. Still deep in thoughts one of the emergency personnel, taps my shoulder with his rubber gloves, saying “come take the big brown bag”



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