Stumbling around the kitchen in a lazy summer nap stupor, I glanced down at my phone to see a call from a good friend. I had just seen her earlier in the day, so this call was unexpected. My heart leapt into my throat as I began to choke back tears. Sorrow and I are well acquainted. I had a feeling this call was not a good one.
"What's wrong with Nick?" Those were the first words I heard. I knew immediately what they meant. My dear friend had been in an accident. Call it a hunch, call it an inner knowing. I had a feeling.
The details came in in bits and pieces. Nick had been in a motorcycle accident on his way to work. It was not good. He couldn't be stabilized. There were many breaks in very important places. He was in critical condition.
The day had started off like any other. I was off to a 10 am CrossFit class. I stopped at a friend's house to record my ice bucket challenge video. I lounged around the house, a luxury in the summer since I am a teacher. And this phone call changed my life.
I called my mom, sobbing hysterically. She said she had heard Mercy Flight come in at that time, and we put things together, and realized how serious it truly was. I went riding to take my mind off things, but quickly realized I was on autopilot. Nothing was going to make this right.
To make matters more difficult, Nick and I had planned to get together that evening, and I had so much to say. I had spent much of the day lounging because I was thinking about all the things I needed to say, and how I wanted to say them. Now a few hours later, I didn't know if I would be able to say them.
I barely slept that night. I think I may have gotten an hour just from sheer exhaustion. I have never felt so helpless in my life. I didn't want to bombard his family and I am all too familiar with ICU rules. There was no way I'd be able to see him. All I could do was pray, so I did plenty of that. Pray, cry, repeat.
Tuesday's early morning rays greeted me. It didn't seem right that the sun should shine and the earth continue to rotate on its axis when my world had fallen apart. But the good news was Nick had made it through the first night. I felt hope course through my veins. Nick has always been a fighter, and I knew he was fighting now. I spent most of Tuesday in prayer. I worked out, tried not to drive myself and others crazy. By Tuesday afternoon, good news was coming in. He'd been stabilized and there was blood flow to the brain. I began to think he would do it again. He'd come back from a horrific accident five years ago, and here he was, about to do it again.
It was not meant to be. That evening, I got the call. "He's gone." I type through tears as I write this. The pain is no less searing nearly three months later.
It's not supposed to be this way. I have faith, and I am a Christian woman, but I would be lying if I said this has not made me wrestle with my faith everyday. A beautiful, young, loving man; full of life, kindness, and in the best of his days, taken in a matter of seconds by someone's wrecklessness.
Who was this woman who had hit him? What was she doing when she hit him? Why Nick? Couldn't he have had something hold him up that morning? While I don't understand why it was Nick and why now, I also struggle to think these things happen for no reason. I am one of those people who truly believes everything happens for a reason, the good, the bad, and the ugly. But it's a little different when tragedy comes knocking on your own door.
So here I sit, nearly three months later, with the same question. Why, God? I am so angry with you. I am angry that you took someone I loved so much. He means so much to so many people. Why do you need him now, when so many of us here need him? I hate knowing that I have some purpose here to finish before I can see him again. Nothing seems important with him gone. And at the same time, I know Nick would not want me to cry. He wouldn't want me to give up. So I do my best to honor him everyday with my thoughts and deeds. He was the guy who would drop everything to help you. Everyday, I try to remind my friends and family how much I love them. I hope they know I'd do anything for them. And I can do this because of Nick's amazing example.
Sleep and I are enemies now, for various reasons. Partly because to sleep means you must slow down. And as anyone grieving knows, it's in the quiet moments that the pain is unbearable. Quiet and alone with your thoughts, you live out the best moments with that person. It's beautiful and so heartbreaking at the same time. And then you beat yourself up for every mistake you ever made with them. I shouldn't have been mad about that. Why didn't I come over that night? So very many things left unsaid. They swirl around my head like ghosts that refuse to stop haunting me. The would'ves, should'ves, and what might've beens. The other reason sleep and I are at odds is because sleeping usually means waking up. There is a moment before you awaken and are fully conscious when life seems full of promise and hope. Then you come into the room and into reality and realize that you're right back where you started a few hours ago. He's still gone. You're still here.
I plan on making this a daily recount of my musings, and I promise they won't always be so deep. But we all go through seasons in life, and this is mine right now. I'll leave you with a quote because they are about the only things that really speak to me these days.
"I wake, haunted by a searing sense of the unfinished. By how things might have been. If only I possessed the magic power to give us a second chance. But I am no wizard; the trick I must perform is to accept what is."
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