I found an article that described (attempted to, anyway) the events during the tornado. It said that Nate was blown out of my arms. He wasn't. He was maybe 8 feet from me when the tornado hit. This is one of the things I struggle with so much. I picked which child to try to help first (yes, I understand you can't do two things at once). I turned to Ani after I saw the tornado and yelled basement and "shooed" her towards Christy and the basement door. I then turned to go to Nate, and that's when the tornado hit. I never got to him. I'm pretty sure had I gone to Nate first, we both probably would have died, and what happened to Christy and Ani would be the same. Nate and I were side by side at the TV watching the weather news. He was on my right. I turned to my left to look out the back window, then went to my left to go around the couch and look out the front window. Nate turned to his right to go around the couch the other way. How I wish he would have followed me in my direction.
After reading the article, I almost wish he was blown from my arms, because then at least I would have been in the act of protecting him. What haunts me is the last image of both children in my mind before the tornado. My last image of Nate is "over there" looking out the window. My last image of Ani is that of terror. She was terrified, her face was scrunched up, and her arms were tight up against her body and her hands in fists. God, if nothing else, let Ani tell me she feels safe with me now, and she's not scared.
Sometimes, when I hear Mark Shultz's song "He's my son" (about a boy with a fatal disease), I wonder how I would have handled Nate's death differently if he were to have died in a different way or different time. Though I know without a doubt that he loved us, he never got to say it. Would I feel differently if he had died in my arms? If I had a chance to say "I love you, goodbye until we meet again"? I say it every night, and when I'm in the car.
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