One…Can Be a Lonely Number

wp-1448520968445.jpegONE… a number I’ve unfortunately seem to have gotten used too. As a child I had my sister and brothers, but as my sister got older and more into boys, she pushed me away. I just wanted her to like me but as she grew older I felt she didn’t want anything to do with me…the time she yelled at me and told me to find my own friends, I was hurt that my sister, who I looked up to, wanted nothing to do with me. So there I was, alone with a sister and brothers, but alone.

I started hanging out with my brothers and we’d have fun, but as I grew older I still felt alone. I’d take comfort in climbing a tree and just lying between the perfect branches to look at all the nature around me. I suppose that’s what got me interested in drawing and painting. So that was my life…pretty much a loner. Yea I had friends, but I was always grounded from them because my mom disliked them. So I pushed on, met a man got pregnant, then married. Then, something happened you only think happens on tv or to others or in horror films, but not too me… not to me.

I came home from work, my husband stood in the doorway. He looked at me as I walked up our slippery icy winter driveway. As I fell walking toward the front door, wondering why he didn’t come to help, he just stood in the doorway. I managed to brush myself off, walk up the front porch, and into the foyer. I said “I fell coming up the driveway, got out early though…” He looked at me and said, “oh well, it happens to the best of us.” I looked at him sorta confused, he then said, “I just killed our son.”

Still confused, I realized he was wearing his coat. Why? Why would he be wearing his coat?

I said a bit frantic, “where is he?” Our son’s bed time was 9pm. I was in our apt. Taking one boot off as I looked towards my sons bedroom…the light was on, I turned towards my husband who was still standing in the doorway with a odd look on his face. I immediately got a terrified feeling in my gut, one boot on, one boot off, limping, I asked him frantically, “where is he?” He pointed towards our bedroom which you had to go through to get to my sons nursery. As I limped – one boot on – as fast as I could, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye on my bed; it looked like my son.

I ran close and, as I got closer, a scream tore out of me from the bowls of my soul. It felt like my life essence was going to escape my flesh …he was my beautiful little 9.5 month old son… blood was everywhere! WHY?

What is happening? This isn’t happening!! NO! NO! NO! NO! NOT MY BABY, GOD! PLEASE, NOT MY BABY!!!

I ran into the other room, looking for a corner to crawl into; any corner away to wake myself up. I turned and looked at my husband,  he was still standing in the doorway.

I said, “what happened?!”

“Did you call an ambulance?!”

” Is he alive?!”

“What’s going on!!!”

I was screaming. I got back up, ran back in there hoping not to see what I saw. Was a dream? No! Nightmare!!! Wake up!!! Wake up, Shirley!!!! Wake up!!!

Another scream escaped me. He was dead, I could tell just by looking at him. I didn’t know what to do: should I pick him up? Oh God, I want to hold him so badly. But, what if… if it’s a miracle, and he’s not dead when I touch him? God, what do I do?!!!

My husband took out his little pocket knife and told me to stab him. Huh!? What?!! You want me to stab you? What the Hell happened? Did you trip and fall with him in your arms? What happened?!!

TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!!!

He turned and left.

As he walked out, he said he was “taking the bridge,” meaning he was going to jump off the Driving Park bridge. I managed to crawl to the corner again. Then thought, “I gotta call an ambulance.” YES!! THEY’LL SAVE HIM YES!!

The remainder of the night was more of a blur. I know the police and ambulance came; my husband came back just prior. Someone, an officer, asked me, “who was here?” I pointed to my husband. The ambulance tech told me they were sorry, my son was dead. I just melted to the floor crying …and then I was one.

(I try to hide this all in a storage spot in my head somewhere, but it seeps out often. I wake up screaming at times; try and pretend it all happened to someone else. But, alas,  it didn’t …just me. One alone again with my thoughts and daydreams. I wish I had a tree to climb in, just one perfect tree.)

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