I never told my arrogant son-in-law I was a retired Federal Prosecutor. At 5 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning, he called: “Pick up your daughter at the bus terminal”.

of reality.

I pressed two trembling fingers hard against the freezing skin of her neck, searching desperately for the carotid artery. I held my breath, closing my eyes, praying to any god that would listen.

One second. Two seconds. Three.

And then, I felt it.

It was faint. It was impossibly slow, fluttering against my fingertips like a dying moth. But continue reading …