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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Inspirational
- Subject: Death / Heartbreak / Loss
- Published: 07/16/2014
Between Death and Life
Born 1986, M, from San Antonio, United States“He’s gone! No! I can’t believe he’s gone!” I wailed as I clutched my husband’s chest.
My William’s body still had a temperature that matched that of a warm bath, but nowhere near living. My boy and I looked into each other’s tearful eyes and held one another. I couldn’t believe it was actually happening.
Soft whimpers came from both me and my son as we watched the doctors do their work.
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
My son jumped out of his skin every time, with his curly brown hair swaying in front of his glum face. I wish he hadn’t seen it.
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
With an detached look, the lead doctor looked at me and said, “I’m sorry.” His stare was endless. I felt my heart sink into my stomach and my son had become numb to my increasingly tight holding.
He always took care of us, I thought. He always brought in wood from the forest to make a fire and keep us warm. Yeah we had electric heating, but his fire was from the heart. He loved us more than anyone else ever could. I remember once asking him to get me coffee from the market, after he had been working all day on his feet. It wasn’t easy being a lumberjack. Without an opposing word, he cloaked himself with his jacket, which had just been unbuttoned, smiled and kissed me as he said, “I’ll be back.” I hope I was good to him. I made the salmon he caught the very next day just the way he liked it. His pipe had always been cleaned and tobacco was never hard to find in the house. I laid out the news section of the newspaper, his favorite, across his favorite corner of the couch. Now he was gone. Who would take care of us the way he had?
The doctors hurriedly collected the useless equipment that failed to save my William.
“Please take your time, Ma’am,” the young nurse said to me, in a sweet voice. I could tell she didn’t know what expression to show so she simply hid her face.
The doctors collected everything in such a calm manner that they didn’t seem to care that a man’s — my husband’s life — had been lost a few moments ago! What nerve— but I had to be strong, for my son. I felt my arm rise with the deep heaves of his chest and shoulders as he mourned his father.
Who would teach him to hunt? Who would teach him how to love— he knew how to love. He learned by watching his father.
The room shrank as the doctors left. The floor now seemed to reflect all the light of the world and made it difficult to keep your eyes open.
“Our Father, thou art in heaven …” I began the prayer, while my son clasped my William’s left hand— I his right. No priest could have made it as meaningful as we had.
II
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
That’s what I remember first. My father had been lying there without moving for such a long time— and I was scared. He looked so peaceful: his glasses nestled on his nose, eyes softly closed, it looked as if her were sleeping. The violent spasms of his body that the shocks caused brought me to reality— my father was dead.
My mother held me close as I tried to pray inside my head. Our father…
I hoped God would listen to me and forgive me for not knowing the prayer fully by heart. I remember seeing my mother’s eyes, swollen with tears; stay connected to my father’s. She was looking for any movement— any sign of life.
When the doctor said “I’m sorry” I felt the air leave my body; no matter how hard I sucked, no air would come into my lungs. I felt numbness over my body and my weight seemed to have tripled— I couldn’t support my own body anymore.
I have to be strong for her, I thought to myself. My mother’s pleas for her husband could be seen in her eyes. They pleaded with death to allow her one more day with my father. Or to take her instead, but she wouldn’t want to be alone in this world. I can’t get that picture out of my head. She was in so much pain.
The doctors and nurses helped clean up around the body. Some smiled at me but I don’t remember if I smiled back— I don’t care if I did or not. They all avoided looking at us in the eyes, to avoid the awkwardness, and out of respect. They were kind, very kind, but we were not concerned with kindness at that time. Why did my father die? Who took him from me? The God I just prayed to? I was thankful that I at least got to know my father. Some boys never know their father— I did.
III
I lost another patient today; an older gentleman with a wife and young son. Why the hell couldn’t I help him? As long as I have been doing this … It doesn’t get any easier with time, let me tell you. We tried everything, the defibrillator was the last resort and it didn’t change a thing. I remember everything so clearly.
“Dr. Thomas! You have a patient that just came in—seems like a heart attack—he is in unit 8,” one of my nurses informed me.
I couldn’t move fast enough; I ignored all other insignificant requests that doctors get when hospital staff see them: phone calls, family calls, etc.
In the small, simple unit where the patient, a Mr. William Kind, was being held, I darted toward him to check the vitals— no heartbeat. Mrs. Kind and the boy kept their eyes and breathing still—fixed on me.
My team, consisting of 3 nurses and myself, tried our best to help the man. Cardio resuscitation— nothing; Defibrillator— nothing.
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
I could tell the family was realizing what was going on, I felt so helpless. The wife, now a widow, was clutching onto the boys shoulders so tightly, the powerful heaves of his sobs were weakened by her grasp.
With a twisted face of failure I looked at the family and squeezed out a painful “I’m sorry”. My arms stretched out almost robotically to hug the family but medical training protocol stopped me halfway, making it look like an uncoordinated reach for the defibrillator.
Sobbing sounds were all that came from the mourners. My heart sank a little deeper; it never gets easier.
IV
It was a day like any other. It didn’t feel quite the same, though, I could tell. Nothing had changed, but something was different.
Keff! Keff! Keff! The familiar sound of my axe tearing into a cedar was a soothing sound. The forest provided so much for my family and I— food, shelter— I built our home with its trees— and energy. I won’t take more than what I need, I always told myself.
Cheep! Cheep! The birds were serenading my labor from their nests. I hope none of them lived in this tree! If they did I’m truly sorry, little fellas.
I gathered the large pieces of wood to take for burning under my arm. The rest of the tree would be collected with Michael’s help, after all a boy should learn everything he can from his father. I don’t remember making it home.
I awoke, at least half-consciously, inside a room where I could hear such commotion, along with beeps and clicks of all sorts.
“Nurse, defibrillator!” I thought I heard someone say.
I could see my body lying on the bed with my dear wife and son staring a few feet away. They were in each other’s embraces, a picture of a loving family— missing me.
Sweetheart! I can see you! I love you! I thought I said, but there was no reaction from anyone in the room. The nurses huddled close to the doctor to follow his every direction precisely, with a solemn yet kind demeanor.
Darling! Can you hear me? What happened to me? I will be alright because I love you. Thank you both for being here. I want you to know, if this is it for me, I love you both and I will see you again.
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
Between Death and Life(Carlos Salinas)
“He’s gone! No! I can’t believe he’s gone!” I wailed as I clutched my husband’s chest.
My William’s body still had a temperature that matched that of a warm bath, but nowhere near living. My boy and I looked into each other’s tearful eyes and held one another. I couldn’t believe it was actually happening.
Soft whimpers came from both me and my son as we watched the doctors do their work.
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
My son jumped out of his skin every time, with his curly brown hair swaying in front of his glum face. I wish he hadn’t seen it.
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
With an detached look, the lead doctor looked at me and said, “I’m sorry.” His stare was endless. I felt my heart sink into my stomach and my son had become numb to my increasingly tight holding.
He always took care of us, I thought. He always brought in wood from the forest to make a fire and keep us warm. Yeah we had electric heating, but his fire was from the heart. He loved us more than anyone else ever could. I remember once asking him to get me coffee from the market, after he had been working all day on his feet. It wasn’t easy being a lumberjack. Without an opposing word, he cloaked himself with his jacket, which had just been unbuttoned, smiled and kissed me as he said, “I’ll be back.” I hope I was good to him. I made the salmon he caught the very next day just the way he liked it. His pipe had always been cleaned and tobacco was never hard to find in the house. I laid out the news section of the newspaper, his favorite, across his favorite corner of the couch. Now he was gone. Who would take care of us the way he had?
The doctors hurriedly collected the useless equipment that failed to save my William.
“Please take your time, Ma’am,” the young nurse said to me, in a sweet voice. I could tell she didn’t know what expression to show so she simply hid her face.
The doctors collected everything in such a calm manner that they didn’t seem to care that a man’s — my husband’s life — had been lost a few moments ago! What nerve— but I had to be strong, for my son. I felt my arm rise with the deep heaves of his chest and shoulders as he mourned his father.
Who would teach him to hunt? Who would teach him how to love— he knew how to love. He learned by watching his father.
The room shrank as the doctors left. The floor now seemed to reflect all the light of the world and made it difficult to keep your eyes open.
“Our Father, thou art in heaven …” I began the prayer, while my son clasped my William’s left hand— I his right. No priest could have made it as meaningful as we had.
II
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
That’s what I remember first. My father had been lying there without moving for such a long time— and I was scared. He looked so peaceful: his glasses nestled on his nose, eyes softly closed, it looked as if her were sleeping. The violent spasms of his body that the shocks caused brought me to reality— my father was dead.
My mother held me close as I tried to pray inside my head. Our father…
I hoped God would listen to me and forgive me for not knowing the prayer fully by heart. I remember seeing my mother’s eyes, swollen with tears; stay connected to my father’s. She was looking for any movement— any sign of life.
When the doctor said “I’m sorry” I felt the air leave my body; no matter how hard I sucked, no air would come into my lungs. I felt numbness over my body and my weight seemed to have tripled— I couldn’t support my own body anymore.
I have to be strong for her, I thought to myself. My mother’s pleas for her husband could be seen in her eyes. They pleaded with death to allow her one more day with my father. Or to take her instead, but she wouldn’t want to be alone in this world. I can’t get that picture out of my head. She was in so much pain.
The doctors and nurses helped clean up around the body. Some smiled at me but I don’t remember if I smiled back— I don’t care if I did or not. They all avoided looking at us in the eyes, to avoid the awkwardness, and out of respect. They were kind, very kind, but we were not concerned with kindness at that time. Why did my father die? Who took him from me? The God I just prayed to? I was thankful that I at least got to know my father. Some boys never know their father— I did.
III
I lost another patient today; an older gentleman with a wife and young son. Why the hell couldn’t I help him? As long as I have been doing this … It doesn’t get any easier with time, let me tell you. We tried everything, the defibrillator was the last resort and it didn’t change a thing. I remember everything so clearly.
“Dr. Thomas! You have a patient that just came in—seems like a heart attack—he is in unit 8,” one of my nurses informed me.
I couldn’t move fast enough; I ignored all other insignificant requests that doctors get when hospital staff see them: phone calls, family calls, etc.
In the small, simple unit where the patient, a Mr. William Kind, was being held, I darted toward him to check the vitals— no heartbeat. Mrs. Kind and the boy kept their eyes and breathing still—fixed on me.
My team, consisting of 3 nurses and myself, tried our best to help the man. Cardio resuscitation— nothing; Defibrillator— nothing.
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
I could tell the family was realizing what was going on, I felt so helpless. The wife, now a widow, was clutching onto the boys shoulders so tightly, the powerful heaves of his sobs were weakened by her grasp.
With a twisted face of failure I looked at the family and squeezed out a painful “I’m sorry”. My arms stretched out almost robotically to hug the family but medical training protocol stopped me halfway, making it look like an uncoordinated reach for the defibrillator.
Sobbing sounds were all that came from the mourners. My heart sank a little deeper; it never gets easier.
IV
It was a day like any other. It didn’t feel quite the same, though, I could tell. Nothing had changed, but something was different.
Keff! Keff! Keff! The familiar sound of my axe tearing into a cedar was a soothing sound. The forest provided so much for my family and I— food, shelter— I built our home with its trees— and energy. I won’t take more than what I need, I always told myself.
Cheep! Cheep! The birds were serenading my labor from their nests. I hope none of them lived in this tree! If they did I’m truly sorry, little fellas.
I gathered the large pieces of wood to take for burning under my arm. The rest of the tree would be collected with Michael’s help, after all a boy should learn everything he can from his father. I don’t remember making it home.
I awoke, at least half-consciously, inside a room where I could hear such commotion, along with beeps and clicks of all sorts.
“Nurse, defibrillator!” I thought I heard someone say.
I could see my body lying on the bed with my dear wife and son staring a few feet away. They were in each other’s embraces, a picture of a loving family— missing me.
Sweetheart! I can see you! I love you! I thought I said, but there was no reaction from anyone in the room. The nurses huddled close to the doctor to follow his every direction precisely, with a solemn yet kind demeanor.
Darling! Can you hear me? What happened to me? I will be alright because I love you. Thank you both for being here. I want you to know, if this is it for me, I love you both and I will see you again.
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
“Clear!” Jolt! “Clear!” Jolt!
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