It happened this week three years ago. I would say I’ve been able to put it behind me. Or maybe I’ve just buried it. Yeah. Buried it beneath the cracked foundations of my mind and heart.
Every once in a while, it comes back to me. A tender pang that reminds me of the fragility of life. The sweet sting of a blurred night. It’s hard to remember what year, what date, what day, it happened. But the numbers don’t matter. All that matters is flurry of events of that evening.
Alone. There I was. Alone and already feeling apprehension. I didn’t like going by myself. I preferred someone be there with me. Instead, I chose to be there no matter what. You needed me to be there. Whether you were aware of it or not. Maybe I needed to be there.
Whatever it was, whatever the reason, I was there. Alone.
Then, everything stopped. Except the lights and the rushing people. A gut wrenching feeling squeezed tight inside. I didn’t know what to do. There I was, a 43 year old man, stunned. No, numb. Heart racing. Standing there confused. Or was it fear. I still don’t remember what it was. In fact, I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do or why I was chosen to be a witness to the would-be nightmare unfolding before my eyes.
I just stood there, frozen in time. Seemed like forever, but it was only a moment. Then I came to my senses and heard the nurse. Everything stopped. You stopped. Your heart stopped. My heart felt like it had stopped. Time simply stopped.
Then I was on the phone with dad. I don’t even remember all of what was said. The noise is still loud in my mind. Just like it was that night. A rushing of some noise. A buzz. A whirlwind of thoughts. My heart skipping beat after beat…
******
Three years have passed. You’re here. Alive. Not the same as before, but alive and aware. Still the same snark and spunk. Same humor. And yet, you’re not the same as you were.
Or maybe I’m not the same. I don’t know anymore. Another brick of experience slapped into the wall in my mind. A building block of numbness. I may have built that wall myself. Soaked it with numbness.
I’m just here most days. Like you’re here.
Part of me, however small it may be, died the night I thought I’d lost you. The night I chose to visit you. Alone.
Thank you for reading my stories and thoughts. I wrote a poem about the above events of that fateful night a few years ago. I revisited it today. I revisit a lot of that night every once in a while. Not always by choice.
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