My mind was in a suspended, unreal state, a play of whirling, disconnected images. More than anything, I found myself replaying my son's life. I saw him again as an infant, then as a small child playing with his dog. I saw him as a young boy, riding his bicycle. I saw his eyes as we'd released the bird. I wanted to take him back to that early boyhood time, to freeze him there, so that he could never reach beyond the innocence and harmlessness of his childhood, never reach any of the people whose lives he had destroyed . . . never reach me.
