I suppose I should fill in the details, as they say, on what happened that terrible night. Mind you, my own memories aren’t very detailed. If I close my eyes and pour my concentration into it, I can recall bits and pieces.

A Lego piece falling from my little hand as my dad scooped me up. The smell of his cologne as my face pressed against his chest. The racing of his heart. Scrunching my eyes up tight against a brilliant yellow light. A scream that might have been Mom’s. Stillness. Opening my eyes when Dad fell to his knees. Seeing Liam lying in front of us, his eyes open but not really seeing…

I don’t remember much else. I don’t think my young brain wanted to remember anything more. What led up to that night will have to be filled in by my parent’s journals. Mom was way better at keeping her journal up to date than Dad was, but this time he wrote down every detail. He always said he felt like he owed it to Liam to record his death properly.

What follows is the recounting of the night Liam saved my life.