November third is coming up!
How can it be almost two years since that dreadful, life destroying morning when Andrew breached Bobst’s non-existent security, and leapt to his death from the tenth floor of that wretched library?
That cold, eery, spooky, hungry library!
“If there were no witnesses, how do you know that my son jumped from the tenth floor?” I asked the police sergeant in charge a few days later, when we went to collect Andrew’s belongings.
“We went to the spot and we found evidence, scuff marks …” he answered, as though stating the obvious.
“The spot? What spot?” asked our friend David, who had accompanied us.
“Where the previous students jumped from,” he answered (I can’t swear that those were his very words, but I know I am not too far off if they weren’t)
So, there is “A Spot” at Bobst, NYU’s Iconic Library, that … I will leave the rest unsaid, for now.
Yes, in less than two weeks it will be two years since that day. TWO YEARS!
How is it then, that I feel as I did that morning when I first entered the non descript cubicle where my son lay dead? DEAD !?!?!
There he was, my beloved, adored, beautiful, special fruit of my womb, D E A D,
while, like a river eternally flowing, the world around me didn’t skip a beat, not even one, and went on living.
So much so, that not even having to clean the blood as there was none, NYU’s student ambassadors, were instructed to keep to their schedule of guided tours and NOT to mention what had happened earlier that morning.
Okay, I am going to stop here and not dip into my inexhaustible arsenal of:
You Fucking Mother Fuckers, you …effing …
I love you Andrew, no matter what!