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Not Always As It Seems
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Not Always As It Seems |
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SPIRIT Senior Member
since 2002-12-29
Posts 1745California Desert |
NOT ALWAYS AS IT SEEMS One month one whole month. It is hard to believe that I've been in this hospital for that long. Well today I'm sprung, finally. David, my long-suffering husband, bless his heart, will be here to pick me up very soon. It will be so wonderful to return to my own home, to sleep in my own bed and to eat off of my own plates. To actually be able to visit with my children and grandchildren in a normal atmosphere will be a definite plus. Imagine me, never sick a day in my life landing up in a place like this. I would have been out sooner I'm sure, if only I had been able to keep my mouth shut about what I know to be true. Oh well! I was always considered a 'slow learner' and I guess this just proved it. I am constantly going over in my head the events that led me to this place. It has become a coping process for me. It allows me to me to continue on with my life. I will never, never wear my grief wrapped around me, like a blanket, for warmth. I am warm though from the realization that I am definite in what I know. No doctor with some fancy title, or long sounding diagnosis can deprive me of the knowledge that I hold close to my heart. One month can seem like a lifetime in a place like this, yet I can remember that fateful Tuesday, one month ago, as if it was today. Dave and me have been real lucky, for the most part. A fine good-looking family. Two daughters both happily married to young men that we love like our own. Both marriages blessed with children that have added extra blessings in our lives. Then, Joey, our youngest and only boy. Sixteen was Joey, and spoilt absolutely rotten. Not a real bad boy, but truthfully speaking, far from good also. Always in some sort of trouble. Running constantly with the boys in town with 'bad blood'. Quick of temper and fists, yet even quicker with a smile and a hug for his mom. I love all my children dearly but Joey for sure was the closest to my heart. I used to feel very guilty that he was my favorite child. But no more, no more. It had been a miserable day, overcast constantly and drizzling. All our moods seemed in keeping with the weather. The evening descended like a heavy burden on the back of a beggar, if you can catch my drift. Joey, his dad and me had been going on at each other in the kitchen. He wanted to borrow the car. I had said yes, Dave had said no, and so around and around it had gone. Voices had been raised and tempers had been short. The dispute ended with my Joey storming out of the house. He had called his friend Danny to come and give him a ride. Whenever Joey left the house it seems like I got instant religion. I would pray for his safety, silently, until he returned home. Then and not before I would go to bed, close my eyes and get some sleep. The call from Danny's father came a little before midnight. I was sitting in the recliner in our bedroom whilst Dave lay in the bed. We were getting our daily dose of the Letterman show. There had been an accident. Danny, Joey and a couple of other boys had been out partying. On the way home Danny had lost control of the car. They had gone through the fence at Widgens Corner and the car had ended its journey in the river. The police were already at the scene, but as yet no sign of the boys. I never saw Dave move so fast, he was dressed in no time flat. He told me to stay put in case Joey showed up. Then he was gone to join the others at the accident scene. I was left alone to cope with the news alone, as best I could. I prayed, I wept and never believed for one moment that anything really bad could happen to my Joey. I heard the front door open and I rushed to the top of the stairs - glory be! Dripping wet and shivering there stood my beautiful Joey. Grabbing a blanket I rushed downstairs to wrap him warm and hug him as tight as I could. Once I had the blanket around him I rushed him upstairs to get into a warm bath. He kept sobbing, telling me how sorry he was that he had hurt me and his dad so bad. He told me over and over again that he hadn't meant to worry me so much. I held him close, oh so close, and told him to hush. He was alive and well and that was all that mattered. I took him to the bathroom and he opted for a shower over the warm bath. I told him to hurry up then, to get undressed, showered and then right into bed. I went on downstairs, singing happily to myself. I entered the kitchen and prepared a plate of cookies and a steaming mug of hot cocoa for him. As soon as I had him cozily settled I would take off for the river area to give his dad the good news. By the time I got back upstairs Joey was snuggled down beneath the covers. His eyes were red and heavy, but the flashing smile he gave me did my heart a world of good. As far as I was concerned he had never looked more wonderful. Again he told me how sorry he was and how much he loved his dad and me. Shushing him to silence I left the mug of cocoa and the plate of cookies on the nightstand, next to his bed. Kissing him on the forehead I left the room, closing the door silently behind me. My heart was full of joy. I crept down the stairs reveling in my happiness at his being okay. The front door opened and Dave came in. He looked so worn out. Terribly haggard and older than I seemed to remember. His eyes were red and puffy as if he had been crying. He had with him Dr. Smithers, our family doctor for many a long year, also the minister from the small Methodist church, which we sporadically attended. I saw his lips move and heard words like 'bodies found, all four boys dead' - he had just through identifying our Joey's body. I heard the words, but how in God's name could I possible believe them. I remember laughing, somewhat hysterically. Told him that Joey was upstairs in bed, safe and sound. He had come home; I had held him, kissed him and fixed him hot cocoa and a plate of cookies. He was safe, unmistakably safe. I rushed up the stairs, crying, whilst Dave ran after me. The minister appeared to be praying and Dr. Smithers was doing something with his black bag. Took something out of it, It looked like a needle, but I couldn't be sure. I threw open the door to Joey's room. It was empty and the bed was made. Oh dear God! How can it be? He was here. I saw him. I touched him and kissed him. We had talked. Dave held me close I remember and my eyes frantically scanned the room. I escaped the circle of his arms and ran into the bathroom - no Joey, no clothes; although on the floor lay the damp blanket. I started to scream and ran back into the bedroom, knocked over the mug, which was standing on top of the plate on the nightstand. In agony, I threw myself onto the bed. After that I remember no more, other than seeing Dr. Smithers approach me and feeling a jab in my arm. I was unable to attend the funeral or the memorial service for the four boys. Dave and Joey's sisters handled all the arrangements. They took care of everything. They put me into the hospital and kept me pretty well sedated, hoping that time would ease my grief. So as you can tell I was pretty well out of it for several days. I have finally learnt to keep my mouth shut about the fact that I honestly believe that Joey was with me that night. I am conforming to the way people think I should be rationalizing Joey's departure and I am finally being released from this psychiatric ward because of my 'new' attitude. But I do know something that they don't know. Something that I can never reveal to anyone as long as I live, not even those nearest and dearest to me. Joey was home that night - yes, he assuredly was. Dave was not convinced by the damp blanket, said it was probably left there from earlier and I just forgot about it. Yes! Right! We always keep damp blankets on the bathroom floor, after all, doesn’t everyone? His attitude makes it impossible for me to confide in him what else I know to be true. The mug I knocked over on the nightstand was still warm, but completely devoid of hot cocoa. It was also sitting on top on an empty plate that had held the cookies. Furthermore when I threw myself on top of Joey's bed, although made, I could feel the dampness seeping through it where Joey had lain. No one will ever believe me, and that's all right. I will forever keep quiet about it. But how I thank God for those very precious, private last moments that I had with my beloved child, a child who saw fit to let me know that death is not the end of life. If we traveled backwards, from end to beginning, would the road, I wonder |
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jjote Senior Member
since 2002-12-25
Posts 1088Ontario, Canada |
You're everywhere in Passions. I just clicked on this forum - gee, you're so prolific. Your story captivated me from start to finish - I'm a grandma too. I'm sorry for your loss - I lost 2 babies right after birth, but I guess that's nothing compared to yours. And I believe you - some things can never be explained. Who knows what miracles He chose to give to one? |
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SPIRIT Senior Member
since 2002-12-29
Posts 1745California Desert |
Thanks, but this one is imagination. |
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ZeraStarloft Junior Member
since 2003-01-07
Posts 11in a marigold |
Wow.... wow..... wow. |
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SPIRIT Senior Member
since 2002-12-29
Posts 1745California Desert |
All wows' appreciated. |
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lorenlynn Member
since 2003-01-27
Posts 203California Beaches |
Great story, certainly makes you think. |
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cinnamongirl Member
since 2003-02-02
Posts 217 |
I believe you. Thank you... |
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SPIRIT Senior Member
since 2002-12-29
Posts 1745California Desert |
Thank you. |
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