My twelve year old neighbor knocked on my door at 2:30 in the morning. He was alone and wanted to use the phone to call his Mom that had taken his Dad to the E.R. He was trying to call his aunt that took them, but he wasn't sure if the number he had was the right one. It didn't work. I tried to tell him that Emergency Rooms can take a long time and that this could be all night. He knocks again at 3:30 (I told him to come back if he wanted) and he tries to call his Mom. Out of service. He goes back home but I can actually hear him crying, I mean wailing across the breezeway. This kid is the biggest deviant. He has had the cops called on him for punching a young girl in the head, he smeared jam all over my railing, been suspended twice, then expelled, threw a water balloon at my door late at night... but here he is wailing for his Mother.
I call the nearest hospital E.R.s and find where his Dad is. He has been admitted. I reach his Mother in the room and we talk. When I give this boy the message his relief is so great. All he wanted is to know. That's it.
Not knowing is a terrible state of being. In many many ways.