The Tragedy in Backing Up

As I was backing out of my driveway yesterday, I accidentally backed into our trash bins that were placed behind my car for the garbage man to collect.  It was just a little bump, not enough to knock them over.  Nothing tragic.

“What the hell was that?”  I say as I pressed the break pedal.  “Oh, right.  Trash cans.  How can I not see the trash cans?”

My brother was pulling into the driveway just as I was pulling out of it and seen me hit the bins.  I yell out my window, “Hey can you fix those for me?  They got in the way.”

Brother – “You lazy bastard.”

I never ran into those trash bins before.  Not once in all these years.  Why is this relevant now?  Because yesterday, as I was backing into the trash bins, my cousins husband was backing into their two-year old baby and killed him.

Holy shit.  Big time holy shit.  The biggest holy fucking shit I’ve ever holy fucking shitted about in my life.

How the FUCK??  Why the hell was he playing behind his car with nobody watching him?  How the fuck fuck fuck can that happen?

My Uncle Al is having a hard time dealing.  The baby was named after him.  Little baby Allen.  My cousin in-law, the husband, is on suicide watch.  Everything is fucked up.

I don’t know what’s going to happen next.  I don’t know how my cousin is dealing.

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