Full Circle

Last night, a moment I had almost let slip from my mind came about full circle. Life is funny like that, you finally let the haunting of a minute of time, 10 minutes of time or a day, go to the calm recesses of your mind and in one-second they can all come flooding back with crashing force.

       "Hi, is this Rebecca H******?" asked the quiet female voice on the other side of the phone. To which I thought, too sweet to be a telemarketer, and replied yes.

       "Well, you sent a letter to my Father many years ago and I just found it. I wanted to know if you would tell me about the night my Mother Alice died, how she was, did she say anything you can tell me." Pause hers and mine  "I'm sorry to bother you like this, but I want to know what happened that night, everything, I'm tired of wondering what my Mother went through and no one ever talks about it."

       My stomach did several backflips and my mind felt like static electricity gone haywire. I had expected this call back in 1997, and never got it. I was mentally prepared back then, last night I was completely caught off guard. The silence was deafening while I quickly composed myself.

       And so I told her. On the night of May 18th 1997 I was sitting at my computer just inside the front door of my old house. I had the front door open because the air outside was beautiful and warm. It was around 11:30 at night, kids asleep, neighborhood asleep, all was quiet. I didn't hear the squeal of tires stopping, only a loud thud that couldn't be ignored. I instantly thought maybe my dog had slipped out the front door and had been hit. I went to the front door and saw a car still in the process of stopping and a heap of something on the ground several yards in front of it.

       I didn't take a moment to put on clothes, or shoes, so in my large T-shirt and underwear I ran across my front lawn and straight to the person laying in the street. Her body lay in unnatural positions. Legs snapped like tree branches, bone exposed under the soft street lamp. Her shirt was partially ripped off exposing her breast. It seemed as though blood was seeping and pumping from so many parts of her body. A calm I had never felt came over me and I laid down in the street next to her. I knew, I couldn't move her, nor do anything for her. There were to many injuries, too much blood, to much of everything. I saw one of her legs, blood was literately pulsing out with each heartbeat and I did the only thing I knew, found the artery with my hand and pressed as hard as I could to stop the flow.

       She was alive and she was coherent. Her eye's were huge. I laid my other hand over hers. I locked my eye's with her and that is how we would remain until help got there. Then I started to talk. I asked her if she had children to which she said yes. I told her to hold on for them, over and over. She asked me how bad it was and all I told her was that she'd be needing some crutches. I didn't mention the blood that was pooling behind her head, or the blood that had pooled around my knees. I remember the only thing that kept coming from my mouth was about family. Children. Family. Children. Hold on, help is coming and you'll see your children soon. She told me to tell her children how much she loved them in strangled words. I told her, you can tell them when they come to the hospital to see you. I kept smiling to her, hoping it would disguise the worry in my own eyes.

       I remember the echo of sirens in the distance, and the way her eye's started to roll wildly around on her face. I remember talking and talking, holding her hand in one of my hands and pressing into her artery with my other. So much blood, yet, I didn't see pain in her eyes, only fear. Then, a police officer was next to me, yet, I didn't move. He asked me, "Did you see the accident" and I said, "No" and then he said, "Help will be here soon, keep doing what your doing" and then his presence was gone. I remember thinking, how can he abandon us?

       During a moment I cannot name, she was gone. Her eye's still wide open, but gone. Her heart still beating, but gone. She no longer held my gaze, she no longer made noises or mumbled, or tried to form a word. The sounds of sirens got louder and then, a fireman was beside me, asking questions, checking her for life, I did not let go of her hand. And then, when the fireman was ready, it was time for me to let go, and I turned my vigilance over to the people with equipment.

       If time is measured in moments, this entire moment of my life lasted probably less then 4 minutes. Yet, it will be a moment that both haunts meand I'll treasure for the rest of my life. I was with someone during their last moments of thought, life. If I call it bonding, it sounds superficial, if I call it connection, it sounds irrelevant. But something happened to me that evening that I've not spoken about much since I experienced it.

       When I stood up, I realized many people were standing in a circle around us. Neighbors woken up by the noise, other cars of people that had stopped. Not one of them had said a word, or came close to us, no one had interrupted my nonstop talking blather. Everyone a witness to this divine experience. I was covered in her blood, and astounded by the moment. I was silent. I quietly walked back into my home. The moment broken and gone, as she was.

       The card. When I learned that she had indeed died from multiple injuries that evening, I was torn, go to the funeral, or not. What I ended up choosing was writing a simple sympathy card. In it I wrote that I had been with her in the seconds, minutes after the accident and that should anyone ever desire to know what happened during that time, they only need to contact me. I sent it to the funeral home for the family and let time go by. I was never called, until last night.

       I hope, that in telling her daughter that all words, all thoughts were focused on her and her brother during those seconds, was exactly what she needed to know to find comfort.

       I've thought about it over the years, I know I could have taken it another direction. Technically, I could have asked her what hurt, I could have told her about the injuries I could see, I could have could have could have........but for whatever reason, I choose in that moment to focus on life, family, children and hope to see them again. I still believe I did the right thing.

       I hope her daughter heard what she needed from me last night. I hope I provided some comfort and rest to her thoughts. I realize now how young she was when she lost her Mother, and now, is probably an age where she could understand and hear the story, absorb it to her heart that her Mothers last words were about her. I am comforted, I was there and I am relieved I was able to tell her what I did. 

She said, "Thank you Rebecca" and the circle was completed.