The mother, staring at the ceiling at 3:00 a.m. She rises and walks across the hall to her daughter's room. She picks up the stuffed white kitty from the bed and cradles it in her arms. She sinks against the foot of the bed as wave upon wave of huge, gulping, breath-defying sobs shake her body, from her toes through the top of her head.
The father, lying on the hardwood floor in the family room. His lower back in so much pain that he cannot sit or stand or lie on a mattress. He rolls to his side and curls himself into a ball. He hopes that the dog won't need to go out until daybreak.
The brothers, legs and arms tangled together on the top bunk. They climbed up there together to sleep under the glow-in-the-dark planets affixed to the ceiling, because it might be safer in the orbit of Jupiter than it was in the school.
The next night.
In case, at some point today, you said, "I can't imagine."