I placed two stories in this the first one was based on my personal experience.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Broken
My friendship with Jason was strange. He lived in a small city called Mansfield, and I lived on the outskirts of Louisville. We met over the summer between junior and senior year in high school at a youth outing with our sister churches. I knew his sister Becky. She and I were not close friends, but that did not keep a friendship with Jason from developing. We had something in common, we were both recovering from bad relationship, well, I was recovering from the latest rejection. He just needed a friend, and I happened to be at the right place at the right time. He was not looking for someone, but just needed to talk to someone that had a female view.
Three times a year our sister churches would do gatherings for the youth at the various sister churches. It was fun traveling to places I otherwise wouldn’t have gone. I learned more about Jason when we were at his home church. I was surprised that everyone was upset over the break-up he and his longtime girlfriend had. I wondered if anyone knew the truth, and wondered why he never exposed it. He wasn’t that kind of guy.
Over the next five years he and I would see each other at the outings and would enjoy each other’s company. We communicated almost daily through e-mail or phone otherwise. Every now and then we would send a real letter. We talked about everything except relationships. It was no surprise when people started talking about us as a couple, but it didn’t feel right. I introduced him to my cousin, and he really liked her, and they started dating. The communication between Jason and I began to slow down. It was hard for me, because I didn’t think anything really had changed. My cousin became very obsessive and would give me wicked looks when I would start chatting with him.
It was during on of the youth outings that he called me. His voice sounded strained and tired. I was concerned. I met him, and he cried on my shoulder. Something I didn’t expect, and as I held him I didn’t expect to feel attracted to him. Somehow after that night he and I started dating.
We would stay up late talking about our future, and that was only a month after we had begun dating. I was stupid and naïve. The following month I flew out to see him. I stayed with his mother at night, but almost every moment was spent in his company. He never kissed me, but he told me how he could see our future together. It was more than I could have hoped for. He was a great friend, and I was now in my twenties, it was time to start thinking about settling down. I was so overwhelmed that I ignored my father and his concerns. He didn’t understand the relationship I had with Jason. My father just didn’t want me to be happy, because he was alone, and didn’t want me to move away.
Jason continued to talk about our life together, and in the fall, he started talking about marriage. I was ecstatic. The next youth outing was in Mansfield. I was anxious to see him, but when I asked if he wanted me to come early he would say no. I waited and traveled with my youth group. It was the longest six hour drive of my life. I was annoying my friend Tara to death. She almost did not stop at Jason’s house to drop me off.
I knocked on his door, and he was surprised that I was there. He said that he would have met me at the church there wasn’t any reason for me to be there first. I was surprised and shocked. After the last conversation we had I thought he would have expected me. So I hid my disappointment and waited for him to take me to the church with the rest of the youth.
That youth outing he seemed more distant and withdrawn than before. He didn’t spend time alone with me like he had all the other times in the five months that we had been dating and seeing each other. I always looked forward to our time together. I had also planned to stay a few days after the rest of the youth and fly home. His mother enjoyed my company.
I should have realized there was a problem when he didn’t schedule off work the last two days I was there. I began to wonder if he regretted telling me some of the things he had. I tried not to be doubtful. It was the evening when he gave me the letter. He told me not to read it until later. I did as he asked. I waited until I got back to his mother’s house when I read it. It was the break-up letter. I still had nearly two days before my flight left. I was devastated. I called him, but he didn’t answer. He obviously didn’t want to talk about the letter.
I spent the last day in Mansfield with his best friend, Jerrod. All he did that last day was apologize for Jason. It was annoying. I was over the hurt. I was Jason’s friend first. I was determined to remain his friend. I left with barely a good-bye from him. I knew our friendship would never be the same. It nearly ceased to exist.
Five months later I sat in the church and watched Jason and my cousin exchange their vows. I didn’t think he expected me to come, but it was my cousin, and family meant something to me. She looked so beautiful in her gown, and he looked handsome. I hugged them both and wished them the best and deep happiness. I knew I couldn’t have the same kind of friendship with Jason ever again.
So, I warned him, very quietly I would emasculate him if he broke my cousin’s heart. That was the last time I ever saw or talked to Jason again.
My friendship with Jason was strange. He lived in a small city called Mansfield, and I lived on the outskirts of Louisville. We met over the summer between junior and senior year in high school at a youth outing with our sister churches. I knew his sister Becky. She and I were not close friends, but that did not keep a friendship with Jason from developing. We had something in common, we were both recovering from bad relationship, well, I was recovering from the latest rejection. He just needed a friend, and I happened to be at the right place at the right time. He was not looking for someone, but just needed to talk to someone that had a female view.
Three times a year our sister churches would do gatherings for the youth at the various sister churches. It was fun traveling to places I otherwise wouldn’t have gone. I learned more about Jason when we were at his home church. I was surprised that everyone was upset over the break-up he and his longtime girlfriend had. I wondered if anyone knew the truth, and wondered why he never exposed it. He wasn’t that kind of guy.
Over the next five years he and I would see each other at the outings and would enjoy each other’s company. We communicated almost daily through e-mail or phone otherwise. Every now and then we would send a real letter. We talked about everything except relationships. It was no surprise when people started talking about us as a couple, but it didn’t feel right. I introduced him to my cousin, and he really liked her, and they started dating. The communication between Jason and I began to slow down. It was hard for me, because I didn’t think anything really had changed. My cousin became very obsessive and would give me wicked looks when I would start chatting with him.
It was during on of the youth outings that he called me. His voice sounded strained and tired. I was concerned. I met him, and he cried on my shoulder. Something I didn’t expect, and as I held him I didn’t expect to feel attracted to him. Somehow after that night he and I started dating.
We would stay up late talking about our future, and that was only a month after we had begun dating. I was stupid and naïve. The following month I flew out to see him. I stayed with his mother at night, but almost every moment was spent in his company. He never kissed me, but he told me how he could see our future together. It was more than I could have hoped for. He was a great friend, and I was now in my twenties, it was time to start thinking about settling down. I was so overwhelmed that I ignored my father and his concerns. He didn’t understand the relationship I had with Jason. My father just didn’t want me to be happy, because he was alone, and didn’t want me to move away.
Jason continued to talk about our life together, and in the fall, he started talking about marriage. I was ecstatic. The next youth outing was in Mansfield. I was anxious to see him, but when I asked if he wanted me to come early he would say no. I waited and traveled with my youth group. It was the longest six hour drive of my life. I was annoying my friend Tara to death. She almost did not stop at Jason’s house to drop me off.
I knocked on his door, and he was surprised that I was there. He said that he would have met me at the church there wasn’t any reason for me to be there first. I was surprised and shocked. After the last conversation we had I thought he would have expected me. So I hid my disappointment and waited for him to take me to the church with the rest of the youth.
That youth outing he seemed more distant and withdrawn than before. He didn’t spend time alone with me like he had all the other times in the five months that we had been dating and seeing each other. I always looked forward to our time together. I had also planned to stay a few days after the rest of the youth and fly home. His mother enjoyed my company.
I should have realized there was a problem when he didn’t schedule off work the last two days I was there. I began to wonder if he regretted telling me some of the things he had. I tried not to be doubtful. It was the evening when he gave me the letter. He told me not to read it until later. I did as he asked. I waited until I got back to his mother’s house when I read it. It was the break-up letter. I still had nearly two days before my flight left. I was devastated. I called him, but he didn’t answer. He obviously didn’t want to talk about the letter.
I spent the last day in Mansfield with his best friend, Jerrod. All he did that last day was apologize for Jason. It was annoying. I was over the hurt. I was Jason’s friend first. I was determined to remain his friend. I left with barely a good-bye from him. I knew our friendship would never be the same. It nearly ceased to exist.
Five months later I sat in the church and watched Jason and my cousin exchange their vows. I didn’t think he expected me to come, but it was my cousin, and family meant something to me. She looked so beautiful in her gown, and he looked handsome. I hugged them both and wished them the best and deep happiness. I knew I couldn’t have the same kind of friendship with Jason ever again.
So, I warned him, very quietly I would emasculate him if he broke my cousin’s heart. That was the last time I ever saw or talked to Jason again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"My Weeping Heart"
I sat up slowly on the hospital bed. I buried my hands into my palms unable to stop crying. My world had ended at 8:54 pm on a Tuesday. It was strange that Armageddon happened on a Tuesday, but I had grown up being told that the end of life as we know it would be unknown. This had been completely unexpected.
There was a gentle knock on the door. I glanced at the door trying not to get tangled in the tubes and wires in my hands. I glared at them before I dried my face with my fingertips.
“Mrs Porter?” A soft voice said before taking steps into the room. “I am the chaplain here at St Augustine’s.”
I took a deep breath and glared at him. “I’m not interested in what you have to say.” I lay back in the hospital bed and grabbed the control pad for the TV flipping it on.
“Well I’m here if you need me.” He said softly backing toward the door.
I ignored him as I stared at the local news. I cringed as I looked at the picture. I swallowed the sticky feeling I suddenly felt knowing what was going to be said. Even though I didn’t have the sound on the closed captioning was activated.
…Tragically two lives were lost when a car going east bound on the west bound lane of I-24 crashed head ..*
I covered my face and thinking bitterly, ‘It was three lives were lost and my reason for living.’
I suppressed the agony I felt turning my back to the door as the chaplain left. I cursed God for the tragedy. I pressed my palm against the empty place in my soul. I curled into a tight ball around the pillow barely remembering what happened. I sobbed as I remembered what I could.
I had just pulled the ultrasound pictures from my purse to marvel at them again. I looked at my husband, just beaming with the joy. It had taken nearly eight years of marriage to conceive our child, and we just learned I carried our son. The Ultrasound technician said that our son was close to seven pounds, and that it would not be a surprise if he wasn’t close to ten pounds when he was full term.
I glanced up at the bright lights heading toward us. My husband tried to avoid the collision, but he couldn’t. I heard the noise. Then the next thing I remember was everything was bright and white. I heard shouting. I couldn’t make it out clearly, but it was panicked. I tried to listen. I clearly heard.
“…Fatal…”
“We are losing them both! Doctor!”
“Sedate her now!” someone snarled and shortly I was floating. I could hear the monitors beeping frantically in the background. I fought against the injection but succumbed to the drugs.
I woke feeling empty and alone. I felt more alone after the nurses performed their methodical examinations without a word. The only visitor I had was the chaplain. I cringed as the door opened again and a newborn cry filled the hallway outside my door.
“Mrs Porter?” A woman said softly. “Are you awake?”
I looked over my shoulder at the nurse entering with wheelchair. I frowned curiously. She gave me a timid smile pushing it to the bedside. She began by moving the IV bag to a hook attached to the wheelchair then unplugging other wires.
“Where am I going?” I breathed as she moved me painfully into the wheelchair.
“We need this room.” She said without emotion.
“Oh,” I managed staring at the floor while she pushed me into motion.
I cringed as we passed the nursery. My heart broke into a thousand pieces trying not to notice all the babies swaddled and waiting for their mothers. I fought not to cry but the tears came anyway.
She pushed me further into a little hallway that seemed to be far from everything. I was overwhelmed with the sterile and cold feeling of the place. I wondered if anyone would be able to find me. She stopped once I we were in a lavish waiting area.
She let out a soft sigh, “Is there anything you need before we continue, Mrs Porter?” She walked around the wheelchair and looked down at me.
I glanced around the empty room. It reminded me of something I’d seen in an expensive hotel or retreat. I looked at her with uncertainty.
“You need to put this on.” She said handing me a sterile gown, and cap. I did as she asked careful not to dislodge the IV. She tied it in the back then handed me a face mask. Once it was over my mouth she wheeled me toward another door.
The automatic door opened quietly to a darker area. I could smell the pure oxygenated air. My palms were sweaty as I pushed past several incubators hold babies so small they could fit in the palm of my hand.
She pushed me toward one and stopped. She sat her hand on my shoulder gave it a little pat and started to walk away. I caught her wrist and looked at her in confusion. “Why have you brought me here?” I whispered fighting the ache in my heart.
“Mrs Porter, this is your son,” She set her hand on the Plexiglas protecting the infant within. “Didn’t anyone tell you he was in the NICU?”
I shook my head looking at the infant covered with wires monitoring his vitals. She gasped and knelt in front of me. She set her hands on my knees. I looked at her struggling with my tears and I saw compassion in her eyes. I didn’t trust my voice looking back at the infant in disbelief.
“He is a strong boy.” She gave my knee a squeeze. I glanced back at her. “He’s strong like your husband. Mrs Porter?” She said quickly, “he’s in ICU, but currently he’s conscious—”
Before she could finish I threw my arms around her neck clutching her tightly. I couldn’t contain the tears of relief as she returned my embrace. My husband and my son lived.
I sat up slowly on the hospital bed. I buried my hands into my palms unable to stop crying. My world had ended at 8:54 pm on a Tuesday. It was strange that Armageddon happened on a Tuesday, but I had grown up being told that the end of life as we know it would be unknown. This had been completely unexpected.
There was a gentle knock on the door. I glanced at the door trying not to get tangled in the tubes and wires in my hands. I glared at them before I dried my face with my fingertips.
“Mrs Porter?” A soft voice said before taking steps into the room. “I am the chaplain here at St Augustine’s.”
I took a deep breath and glared at him. “I’m not interested in what you have to say.” I lay back in the hospital bed and grabbed the control pad for the TV flipping it on.
“Well I’m here if you need me.” He said softly backing toward the door.
I ignored him as I stared at the local news. I cringed as I looked at the picture. I swallowed the sticky feeling I suddenly felt knowing what was going to be said. Even though I didn’t have the sound on the closed captioning was activated.
…Tragically two lives were lost when a car going east bound on the west bound lane of I-24 crashed head ..*
I covered my face and thinking bitterly, ‘It was three lives were lost and my reason for living.’
I suppressed the agony I felt turning my back to the door as the chaplain left. I cursed God for the tragedy. I pressed my palm against the empty place in my soul. I curled into a tight ball around the pillow barely remembering what happened. I sobbed as I remembered what I could.
I had just pulled the ultrasound pictures from my purse to marvel at them again. I looked at my husband, just beaming with the joy. It had taken nearly eight years of marriage to conceive our child, and we just learned I carried our son. The Ultrasound technician said that our son was close to seven pounds, and that it would not be a surprise if he wasn’t close to ten pounds when he was full term.
I glanced up at the bright lights heading toward us. My husband tried to avoid the collision, but he couldn’t. I heard the noise. Then the next thing I remember was everything was bright and white. I heard shouting. I couldn’t make it out clearly, but it was panicked. I tried to listen. I clearly heard.
“…Fatal…”
“We are losing them both! Doctor!”
“Sedate her now!” someone snarled and shortly I was floating. I could hear the monitors beeping frantically in the background. I fought against the injection but succumbed to the drugs.
I woke feeling empty and alone. I felt more alone after the nurses performed their methodical examinations without a word. The only visitor I had was the chaplain. I cringed as the door opened again and a newborn cry filled the hallway outside my door.
“Mrs Porter?” A woman said softly. “Are you awake?”
I looked over my shoulder at the nurse entering with wheelchair. I frowned curiously. She gave me a timid smile pushing it to the bedside. She began by moving the IV bag to a hook attached to the wheelchair then unplugging other wires.
“Where am I going?” I breathed as she moved me painfully into the wheelchair.
“We need this room.” She said without emotion.
“Oh,” I managed staring at the floor while she pushed me into motion.
I cringed as we passed the nursery. My heart broke into a thousand pieces trying not to notice all the babies swaddled and waiting for their mothers. I fought not to cry but the tears came anyway.
She pushed me further into a little hallway that seemed to be far from everything. I was overwhelmed with the sterile and cold feeling of the place. I wondered if anyone would be able to find me. She stopped once I we were in a lavish waiting area.
She let out a soft sigh, “Is there anything you need before we continue, Mrs Porter?” She walked around the wheelchair and looked down at me.
I glanced around the empty room. It reminded me of something I’d seen in an expensive hotel or retreat. I looked at her with uncertainty.
“You need to put this on.” She said handing me a sterile gown, and cap. I did as she asked careful not to dislodge the IV. She tied it in the back then handed me a face mask. Once it was over my mouth she wheeled me toward another door.
The automatic door opened quietly to a darker area. I could smell the pure oxygenated air. My palms were sweaty as I pushed past several incubators hold babies so small they could fit in the palm of my hand.
She pushed me toward one and stopped. She sat her hand on my shoulder gave it a little pat and started to walk away. I caught her wrist and looked at her in confusion. “Why have you brought me here?” I whispered fighting the ache in my heart.
“Mrs Porter, this is your son,” She set her hand on the Plexiglas protecting the infant within. “Didn’t anyone tell you he was in the NICU?”
I shook my head looking at the infant covered with wires monitoring his vitals. She gasped and knelt in front of me. She set her hands on my knees. I looked at her struggling with my tears and I saw compassion in her eyes. I didn’t trust my voice looking back at the infant in disbelief.
“He is a strong boy.” She gave my knee a squeeze. I glanced back at her. “He’s strong like your husband. Mrs Porter?” She said quickly, “he’s in ICU, but currently he’s conscious—”
Before she could finish I threw my arms around her neck clutching her tightly. I couldn’t contain the tears of relief as she returned my embrace. My husband and my son lived.
No comments:
Post a Comment