I would like to preface this story by saying that I wrote this not because I was feeling sad but because I wanted a record of it. Sad things happen and that is a fact. You cannot hide from them and you cannot pretend that they aren't a part of you. I am grateful for all of the experiances in my life because I know I am stronger for them. I hope that whoever reads this can find some comfort in the fact that my life is good and that while I miss my mother, I am happy.
I came to consciousness suddenly. A faint sound of whimpering came from my sister's bed. The air seemed thick with sadness and torment. "Mom? No, no, no", came more sobs from Brianne's bed.
I knew the moment I heard my sister's lament. My stomach dropped, the way it does when something terrifying happens. For a brief moment, panic set in. They are wrong. I need to check on her. We were supposed to have more time.
Reality set in and I sat up in bed, "Mom!" My voice cracked, "She… she's gone?" That was a dumb question, I already knew what happened.
My oldest sister, Jennifer, came to my bedside. Fear and mourning in her eyes. I could tell what was weighing on her mind. She was the oldest. It was her responsibility to make sure we were okay. "Mom is gone. She passed while you where sleeping," she said flatly.
My eyes felt warm and wet, as if I had sprung a wild leak. My lip began to quiver and I let out a moan of grief. I suddenly pushed myself up out of bed. Jenne pushed me back down to a seated position. I fell back down with ease, my body heavy with grief and sleep. She said, "You don't need to see this."
Flashes of red and white filled the room. Turning to the window, I saw an ambulance pull up to the curb of my house. There was a knocking at our door. "We received a call from this residence that there was a death," a man said.
A hoarse and tired sounding voice, which belonged to my grandmother, said, "Yes, please come in." Metal rattling filled the silent house. My sister left the room at the prompting of this sound.
Sitting there, my senses started to fade. My eyes felt large in my head. My nose felt like someone was pushing a pillow against it. The thoughts drained from my head. Numbness had come over me and the world around me did not exist. There was no life on this planet, no food, no friendships, and no air to breathe.
Suddenly, air filled my lungs as if I had come back to life. It was as though my consciousness came back to this world but it was unlike any world I had ever known. It was lonely, dark, and cold. I could recall that I had a family and friends but not a single name came to my memory. A hollow scuffling came to my ears. It was uncomfortable. It filled me with dread. The plastic wheels of the gurney rolled over the pavement outside of my house.
In a trance, my body stood up. My legs moved, bringing me forward. My body stopped next to the window in my room. I bent over, looking through the broken slats on my blinds. Flashing red and white, there was a gurney with a still body in a large black bag. This image made me pause. It seemed absurd to put a human body into what resembled a garbage bag.
I watched as they lifted the stretcher into the ambulance and they drove away. My body felt vacant, as if I was the one who had died. Sleep never came that night, feeling didn't come either. A colorless world with an ambulance driving away flashed in my mind every time I closed my eyes. I will never forget that night or the lack of sensation, as if I had been alone in a dark cavernous place.
2 comments:
It is interesting for me to hear your account of your memories from that early morning. I too have those thoughts go through my mind far more frequently than I desire, however they are with less intensity every year. I no longer find myself waking in a panic at 3:00 am on 2/12, reliving watching her take her last breath with fear and a horrible feeling of being totally unable to control the train I was on. There were so many hard things that had to be endured that year. From sitting down telling you and Bree the day after Christmas that your Mother was going to die to holding you both while you cried at her funeral. Then holding a precious child and watching him be carried out of our lives. Yes my dear sister we have endured and are far stronger for it. I may not have told you near enough, that I am proud of the woman that you are. I love you and I admire you for your strength and your determination.
Thank you for writing this. (Steph Wood)
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