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Well, Lord... We are here again. All of us... except one... waiting in this sterile hospital waiting room with its uncomfortable chairs, plastic plants, and outdated magazines. Waiting to see if this time we won't be so lucky and you'll decide to take that one home with you. Will this be the time?
If it is, are you ready for the consequences. Do you really know what will happen if you take him? Do you see what I see?
Do you see Vin? Do you see a soul balancing on the precipice of blackness like I do? Do you see the scabs covering the sores caused by having part of him ripped away so many years ago? Do you know that they are waiting to burst open again - never to be healed - if he is taken?
Do you see Ezra? Do you see the terror hidden behind those carefully guarded eyes? The terror of knowing that he once again took a gamble to care about someone only to have that person leave him alone. Oh, he tries to hide it with his masks and his language, but he needs that one. He needs his guidance, his confidence, his belief that he is worthwhile. If you take that, are you ready for the shattered shell that will be left behind?
And what about JD? Do you see him sitting on the back of that chair, his arms draped on his legs, hands clasped. Do you see the aching pleas for reassurance in his eyes every time he raises his head to look desperately down the hallway at the double doors? Are you prepared to take his hero from him? Are you prepared to watch him lose one who has been a father, brother, best friend, protector, guide, and a million other things to him? Are you ready to see that light die in his eyes?
Can you see the shaking in Nathan's hands? Can you see the guilt balancing on his shoulders for being out of bullets and for not being able to throw his knife before that sonofabitch pumped three rounds into his friend's chest? Are you prepared to see that shadow lay on his soul for the rest of his days? Always wondering, always questioning... if I had only.... Are you ready to hear these pleas from him for all eternity?
And what about that one... Buck. Pacing like a caged lion wanting to pounce on anything... anyone... if it meant he could make all of this go away. His pacing simply a demonstration of him balancing between thinking he can will his oldest friend to walk into this room, look at us with those deep green eyes and make some gruff comment about us having work to do and thinking he will never again see him alive. Are you prepared to see a large part of this vibrant, big hearted man wither away?
And, oh sweet Lord, do you see Mary, folded into that chair, her forehead laying on her knees, agony oozing out of every pore? She is the newest one to these little get togethers. Are you prepared to explain to her, and in turn to Billy, why the one they love was taken from them... for a second time?
And finally, Lord, are you prepared to see what it will do to me? Are you prepared for my roars of anger and condemnation for taking one so precious to so many? Can you see the gaping hole that will be left by the loss of the one who gave me a reason to believe again? To understand that there are still people who gave a damn and who are worth fighting for? My brother, and yes, the son I never had. Are you ready to have another of your lambs turn their backs to you forever?
Because if you take him, that's what will happen. How can it not. How can I put faith in someone.. something.. who can hurt so many? How can I explain to others what I no longer believe myself... that you are a kind and benevolent God... who one day snatched him away from us for no apparent reason, only that it was your will.
Are you prepared for all of this? Are you really ready for the consequences?
I'm not.
Look at you there... Hair sticking out in all directions, machines hooked to virtually every portion of your body.
You're so still. So quiet. Do you even hear the beeps and hums?
Are you ever going to wake up?
It's been two days and I wait. Watching ever so carefully the gentle rise and fall of your chest. Even then, at times I am not sure. I have to lay my hand on you. To feel the warmth of your body... your breath on my skin. To make sure you are still with us. With me.
You're scaring me again. When I opened my door to see Ezra and Josiah standing there, both so solemn, their faces pale, I knew. At first there was only silence and then Ezra’s voice saying my name, so soft, so shaky. I knew that this was the "call" I had dreaded before he ever got the words out. It was worse than I thought it would be. I remember backing away, shaking my head, saying no. Only part of what they were saying penetrating my mind... three bullets square in the chest. No protection — no warning.
Then there was the fear that I wouldn't make it in time. You would slip away from me before I ever had the chance to hold your hand... caress your cheek... to say I love you one more time. And even with the siren and light, it took forever to get to the hospital, only to find out that you were already out of reach. They had rushed you into surgery and again, I wondered if I would have my chance.
The waiting room was agony. Six hours of holding my breath, my head buried in my arms or on my knees...wishing. Wishing that it was all just a bad dream... that I could wake up, reach out and feel you beside me again. Hear you softly snoring. See you sleeping with your arm thrown over your head. But then I would open my eyes and see the others as their features bounced between the guarded hope that you were going to be fine and the absolute despair of knowing it might never be.
And then that first glimpse of you after the surgery.... ghost pale, even in comparison to the white blankets and dressings that swathed your entire body. For the first time since I've known you, you looked small. Vulnerable. Laying there... everything ash white. Everything except for the blood that still oozed from the drain in your side.
Ordinary under the circumstances they tried to reassure us. But to me, it looked like you were slowing slipping away. One drop at a time into that little bag. So many machines. So many tubes and wires. So pale. I wasn't sure you were still here for a time. Not until I could finally approach you... lay my hand on your arm... feel your heartbeat under my hand.
A tear? Why are you crying? Are you in pain? Or does some part of you know we are here and know what we are feeling? Is it Sarah and Adam? Are they here too? Talking to you? Asking you if you are ready to go with them?
But can you also hear me? Can you hear me asking for a lifetime of evenings like the one we spent the night before you were shot ... sitting on the porch swing, my head on your shoulder, your arm around me, watching the sunset? Can you hear me wishing for another glimpse of you in the morning sunlight? The lingering feel of your lips on my skin? The way it makes me feel when your eyes soak up the sight of me after we have been apart?
Can you hear me asking you to stay?
So still. So quiet. Are you ever going to wake up?
Please don't leave me.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three
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