The next day, I woke up to find my wife’s best friend Ethan Davis sitting in a chair next to my bed. He sat hunched over reading some sort of pamphlet; I tried to cock my head to get a better view of the material he flipped through. He sniffled.
“It wasn’t supposed to be this way my dear Callie.” He whispered to himself with his voice shaking.
He was always saying endearing things to her so I really did not think much of it. I found my self thinking more of that statement and wondering why I never thought much of it. He used to make it known quite often that he was supposed to end up marrying Callie. I would just ignore it thinking he was just jealous and could not really do much about it. however, I did feel he was untrustworthy. That feeling would lead to many arguments between my wife and me. She could not stand the idea of me not trusting Ethan. They had grown up together, he was very important in her life, how could I not trust him?
Now, he sat at my side in a hospital. Most people would be comforted by the generosity of giving up his time to come visit me. I on the other hand felt slightly curious why he would do it. He never really liked me and I felt the same about him. I just stared at him until he looked up and met me eye to eye.
“Hey there,” Ethan greeted warmly as he shut the book in his hands, “How you feeling there sir?”
“Fine. Now tell me what happened to Callie and the kids, and me for that matter?” I spent no time demanding for answers.
Ethan shook his head as if he would not reply to my quires, “It’s a shame what happened and even more so that I have to be the one to tell you.” He paused and took a deep breath that was slow and ragged, “Apparently you had a stroke on the way to Jenna’s soccer game. It must have happened as you were driving past a red light and that’s when a semi-truck slammed into the passenger’s side. The girls died instantly…Callie, precious Callie died on the way to the hospital.”
To say I was drowning in an ocean of emotions is a complete understatement. I lied in a hospital bed after suffering a stroke with the blood of my family on my hands. To die at that precise moment was all I wanted and almost asked for from Ethan.
“Your stroke was quite massive and has impaired several things. For one, your whole body is pretty much paralyzed. We also have no indication that you are able to talk quite yet. The doctors believe you will become normal after much, much rehabilitation. However, mentally you’ll never be normal being that you’re family is dead and it is because of you.” Ethan continued with a haunted tone that sent chills down my numb spine.
I realized that the reason the nurse and doctor did not reply to my questions was merely because I could not talk. It felt like I was talking but yet, it was not happening. However, not being able to communicate felt like the least of my problems. Even not being able to move body did not match up to the great guilt of my family’s death. I felt an awesome amount of grief weighed down on me. I missed my daughters already. Jenna was supposed to compete in the state championship for soccer fifteen minutes before she died. Lizzie had just entered the high school world with much anticipation for what would happen in the next four years of her life. I was solely responsible for cutting my daughters’ lives short.
The detrimental news caused my blood sugar to drop severely. I had a chronic battle with diabetes since I turned thirteen. Anytime I experience any high emotion, my sugar will drop. The morning of the accident, Callie and I fought intensely over something I cannot remember. As the argument became more heated, I felt more drained and unable to keep with any rebuttals against her thinking. Without me asking for it, Callie reached over and grabbed my needle of insulin. I told I could do it but she just glared at me and told me to lift up my shirt. As I pulled it up, she stabbed me with the medicine.
Shortly after that, we all prepared for the game. Callie insisted that she would drive out claiming I did not look like I could handle the drive out. I blocked her fighting and took the driver’s seat. Reluctant, she hopped in the passenger’s seat for our last car ride together and of course it was spent doing what we always did together- yelling and screaming.
Weeks after the fateful day of the accident went by and I was removed from the hospital. Out of the hospital, I was placed in a home care program where I had a nurse named Lucinda with me every moment of the day and into the night. She had to take care of the aspects of my life I took for granted. She helped me eat, get in and out of bed, take showers, and even cleaned me after I used the bathroom in a diaper. Rebekah was right, I had so much to overcome. I needed to learn how to be humble in letting people change me like I was three year old and yet I had to learn strength and healing with getting over the loss of my family.
The first time I came home was ultimately the most painful thing I have ever done. Smelling the sweet incense that reminded me of the woman, I fell in love with brought tears to my eyes. I began wishing I could start all over again. I wanted to make love to her with such a passion that would make her fall for me again. I desired to go back and make everything right again. Death and its massive weight slammed the door shut and would not ever open again.
Part of my recovery process was learning how to talk again. Slowly I made words out of mumbles and stutters. Who would have thought, learning to talk as thirty five year old would be so complex? I had the words in my mind but when they came out, it was something entirely different. It became quite the frustrating ordeal. I was told I would never be able to hold a conversation again with anybody. I found myself almost okay with that because I could not find anyone I desired to talk with other then my dead daughters and wife.
About once a week, Ethan came over and visited me. I could not verbalize any objections to his visits so I sat there and look disinterested. When my nurse finally told him, I would never carry a conversation with him again, he confessed he would not come back. I did not find myself upset but thankful. He reminded me way too much of Callie. His every visit was painful.
On his last visit, Lucinda asked if he could stay a little longer so she could run up to the corner store and get some milk. Ethan complied and she left. Ethan pulled up a seat next to where I laid on the couch. He cleared his throat,
“There’s something I have been wanting to tell you,” he gave a nervous laugh “you see your stroke wasn’t some random thing with in you. Callie and I well first off, have been seeing each other all nineteen years of your marriage. You had to know. Why you never pushed things, we could never figure it out, but in any regard we spent a lot of nights together. She told you the divorce would happen after the kids graduated only so there would not be any custody battles and that she and I could get married. That day seemed like an eternity so we tried to kill you.
“The insulin she gave you that morning wasn’t insulin. It was a liquid to help limit the blood supply to your brain thus giving you a pretty severe stroke and eventually killing you. However, our plan was ruined when you all went driving together and the stroke happens while you were driving. You killed half the plan without realizing it.
“Now why do I tell you all of this? Because Lucinda told me you would never talk again. You have no control over your hands to write anything, so you won’t be telling anyone what I just said to you.”
Ethan stood up and turned away to walk out of the door. Anger filled up inside of me that equaled more then any of the emotions I experienced in the last few months. I took a deep breath and with every piece of strength I had, I spoke with conviction that was determine to defend my daughters,
“That’s what you think.”
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