My son has never been injured. Except once.

We love our young boy. We're a normal family. We live in rural Colorado in a small ranch house. I work maintenance some mornings and my wife is a nurse. We've been married for 10 years but we're still young. We were barely out of college when we said our vows. We decided to have a child immediately after we tied the knot. <br><br>When I watched my wife bring our beautiful son into the world, I felt the beginning of dreaming had finally come to fruition. I grew up in a strange household. My parents were radicals who believed that the most important thing in life was freedom. My sister and I were never subject to discipline or rules. We were free to do what we wanted. I used to think that they were crazy, but they had a point proven to me when my sister fell off the porch when I was ten. She shattered her arm and leg. I too broke my arm in third grade. Falling off a tree. Bruises were a bad habit of mine. I learned my lesson. But things turned out alright. I got to spend more time fishing outside. My parents taught me the hard way that freedom has a cost. But it was worth it. <br><br>So when our beautiful son was born, I wanted him to be free. I wanted to teach him the way I was taught. Not afraid to take risks. Not afraid to be daring. I trusted him to make the right call. But I never thought about how that would play out until he was 6. <br><br>He breaks bones more than I ever did as a kid. He's fearless. We've lost count of how many times he's fallen out of our Oak tree. He's a wild child. I had even gotten used to it. We had a great routine down pat. He'd get hurt. My wife would patch him up. He'd be back to normal hours later. But there was once. Just once out of hundreds. He never healed from that. <br><br>My wife and son were driving home one morning after my wife finished work. It was 6am, still dark. The sun rises around 7am at this time of year. They were on the country road with no streetlights. The roads in Colorado have barely any streetlights out here. He was sleeping on the entire drive home until they hit a moose. There was nothing my wife could do to avoid it. It ran out in front of them at the last second. Crushing the passenger side of the car, where my son was. <br><br>They were rushed to the emergency room and my wife immediately underwent surgery.<br><br>She was chosen over my son. It wasn't a hard choice for the doctors. She was older. She had lost more blood. She needed surgery immediately. My son would have to wait. <br><br>I got the call at 7am. I immediately got in my car and left for the hospital. I had never been more frightened. I was shaking and crying like a madman. I had never been so afraid. <br><br>As I got to the ER my wife was still on the operating table. My son was sitting alone on a bench. No one had looked at him or made an effort to see how bad he was hurt. No one even bothered to ask him if he was okay. It was like he was invisible. <br><br>Blood was caked all over his head. His neck was covered in bruises. His eyes were huge. He wasn't crying. He was just staring forward. He wasn't moving at all. <br><br>I got down on my knees. I asked if he was okay. I held his head in my hands. <br><br>"I'M FINE DADDY." Is all I got out of him. <br><br>I knew he wasn't fine. I begged the doctors to look at him. To check on him. They didn't. They just told me to be quiet and wait for my wife to finish her surgery. I didn't care about my wife. My son was sitting right in front of me not moving. He hadn't been checked yet. He told me he was fine. But I think deep down he might have known he wasn't. <br><br>I begged them again. I screamed at them. I threatened them. I told them to fuck off. I hated them. I just wanted my son to be okay.<br><br>They finally came over to my son and that's when i saw it. His head was twisted. It was dislocated. The bone that connected to his neck had slipped out of place. He wasn't going to heal from this one. <br><br>They immediately rushed him to the emergency surgery room. My wife came out 55 minutes later. I still hadn't heard anything since they took him away. <br><br>My wife finally came to. She was groggy. She was upset. She kept asking for our son. I finally got to see her. To hug her. Hold her hand. I told her everything. I told her what had happened. How our son's neck bone had come loose. She screamed. I tried to hold her but she pushed me away. She got mad at me. She blamed me. She said, "This wouldn't have happened if he wasn't so reckless. That he had to learn discipline and to be safe. To be more careful." <br><br>I said, "Maybe he just wasn't cut out for life on ranch. Or life as a human. I think this was his way of telling us he wanted to leave." My wife cried. She cried and wailed for hours. But I just smiled and held her. I was relieved that my son was gone. I was finally happy. He was at peace. Finally free. <br><br>I'm not sad that my son is gone. I'm not heartbroken. I'm finally happy. I got to call him mine. I got to teach him the way I was taught. But we're better without him. He's where he wanted to be. <br><br>He'll never have to worry about falling again. He'll never feel pain again. <br><br>The doctors finally came to me after several hours of waiting outside of my wife's room. They told me that my son had died on the table. He had lost too much blood. It wasn't possible to save him. <br><br>I smiled again. I said, "I knew that he would some day. But I've never been more proud of him then I am now."<br><br>That's when the doctor punched me in the face. <br><br>We filed a report for assault but the hospital declined to prosecute.