"Ms. Lucker!" shouted the doctor. I stood up silenty and walked towards him. He smiled at me. I followed him into his office. "Please, have a seat," he told me. I sat down. I knew what was going to happen. This was the first time I was talking to a doctor about Mitchell's death. This was so hard for me. The doctor introduced himself as Dr. Greg Black, but I was to call him Dr. Black. "How are you doing?" he asked. To be honest, I wasn't doing well at all. "I'm fine," I rpelied. "Describe 'fine'," he said. I was confused. "What?" I asked. "I know why you're here," he said. He sat down beside me and held my hand. "You're not fine. I know you're not," he said, a little louder. I sighed. I wanted to just break down and cry. "Okay... Honestly, I'm not doing well at all." A pause. A long pause. Dr. Black didn't say anything because he knew I wasn't done. "I miss Mitch!" I cried. He grabbed a tissue for me. I took the tissue and let out a quiet "Thank you." I wiped the tears from my face. He waited for my to get myself together a little more. Then he said, "How would you describe your relationship with Mitch?" he asked. "Just one word?" I asked, curiously. "Yes, just one word," he replied. "Damn!" I whispered. So many words came to mind. Romantic. War-like. Amazing. Wonderful. So many adjectives. I thought about the past. The ups and the downs. "Different," I said, all of a sudden. Fuck! Out of all the words I could've used, I pick different?!? "What do you mean?" asked Dr. Black. "Well, we would argue a lot... Then we had Kenadee, which made things a little more challenging," I admitted. "I see," he said, writing things down. Why does he have to write everything down? I just wanted to come in, vent, and then leave. "What else?" he asked. "He'd take me on romantic dates all the time. I really liked those," I said. I started to cry again. Another tissue was handed to me. "I can't...believe...I'm crying... this...much," I said while crying. Somehow, Dr. Black understood what I just said. "It's okay, Jolie," he said, trying to comfort me. "Sometimes it's good to let it all out." I still continued to cry. At this point, I felt like I was just making a complete fool of myself. "I'll give you a few minutes," he said. Then he left the room. During my sobs, I kept saying "Why? Why? Why?". Why did this have to happen to me?
A few moments later, Dr. Black came back into the room. "Feeling any better?" he asked. By this time, I had stopped crying and had gotten myself together. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, smiling. "Would you like to keep talking about it?" he asked. "Yes, please!" I insisted. I knew talking about it would help. I didn't care if I cried. Crying is good sometimes. He began to ask me more questions. "What does Kenadee think about his death?" he asked. I paused. I began to get teary-eyed. "Well, she doesn't really seem to get very upset about it," I said. When I had to tell her, we both cried for a really long time. I told her teacher about it, too. She goes to a Christian school." "What did her teacher say about it?" asked Dr. Black. I replied, "She said that sometimes we do things before thinking about it, which in this case, led to something even worse." He wrote down some more things, which I'm perfectly fine with now. I continued. "Kenadee didn't like me crying, though," I said. "How can you tell?" he asked. "One time, when I was in the bedroom listening to his music, she came in and listened with me. She sat in my lap, and we listened together. Then I started crying. She went 'Mom, daddy is never coming back. Just get over it. He's in Heaven, and we'll get to see him again someday!' and I don't think I've ever cried harder. That was the most precious thing ever," I said. I stood up. "You know what? I don't need this. I'm going to be okay. So what if Mitch isn't here in person? He's up in Heaven looking down on us, and that's all we need." Then I walked out, smiling.
