What's Left of Me
Page 85
“Sir, I need you to stay calm. Did she fall? Is she hurt? How long has she been unconscious?”
Too many f**king questions! Just send someone to me! To her!
“No … I don’t know … I woke up and she wasn’t breathing. She isn’t breathing! I tri— I tried CPR. Please, you have to—”
I can’t finish. I drop the phone and fall to my knees. I know it’s too late. I know she’s gone, and it f**king hurts. I can feel the knife stabbing into my chest. With each sharp jab I fall forward onto the floor, clutching at the sheet that hangs off the bed, pulling it into my chest and crying harder.
I don’t listen to the voice coming through the phone. I claw at my chest, trying to take whatever is stabbing me out. No matter how hard I try, nothing comes out. It just keeps coming.
Stabbing.
Piercing.
Cutting.
I force myself to stand and bring myself to the bed where Aundrea is. I grab her body into my arms, pulling her to me as I sob.
She doesn’t feel warm.
She’s motionless as I bring my head to the crook of her neck.
She still smells the same. Like honey and sweet pears.
I cry into her neck rocking us back and forth as I pray. “Please God, please let her wake up. Aundrea! Please, baby, open your beautiful eyes. You can’t leave me. Not like this. Please don’t leave me. I need you. I need you. Please don’t go, Aundrea! I love you so f**king much. I need you with me. Open your eyes!”
I’m crying so damn hard that I don’t even hear the paramedics as they force their way into our apartment and into our bedroom.
One minute I’m holding Aundrea, and the next strong arms are pulling me away from her. I scream her name and start to lash out at whoever has their arms around me, moving me away from her body. The solid grip tries to pull me out of the bedroom, but I lash my arms out, grabbing onto the doorframe and stopping us. I can hear the cracks of the wood holding our weight as I try to force myself from not moving.
“No! Please! Please, she needs me! I need to be with her!”
All I see is Aundrea being moved and men hovering over her, calling out words I don’t understand. I don’t pay attention to how many people are in my room. All I focus on is her and trying to get a glimpse of her body every few seconds.
After a while, I give in and allow my weight to fall back on whoever is holding me up. The tears cloud my vision so that I can no longer see what’s unfolding before my eyes. When I hear a man say, to someone coming through the other end of a radio, “Dead on arrival,” I lose it.
Her scent brings me back to the present and, when I feel as if I’ve absorbed every bit of it that may linger in the room, I nod.
There are unspoken words between Genna and me as we make our way down the stairs and to the car.
Words of encouragement.
Words of strength.
Words of mourning.
When Jason turns off the car in the church parking lot, no one moves. Jason and Genna remain seated up front with their hands tangled together, and her parents sit in the back next to me.
I only saw Aundrea’s dad break down in public once: at the hospital. Aundrea’s mom, on the other hand, cries frequently. She’s always carrying a tissue with her no matter the time or place, even when she’s eating. It’s as if everything reminds her of Aundrea. She regularly walks around with her eyes swollen and red.
Genna’s been holding it together pretty well during the day. She lets out a few tears, but she mostly waits until she’s behind closed doors to let it all out. I walked in on her in Aundrea’s old room the day after Aundrea passed away. She was lying in the center of her sister’s neatly made bed, clutching one of her shirts tightly to her chest and shuddering with tears. Her cries grew louder when she felt me on the bed beside her. I don’t know where Jason was, but I knew she needed someone. I rested my hand on her back, rubbing gently, which only made her cry harder. We lay there, with the smell of Aundrea between us, and cried together. I’d never cried so damn hard in my life.
Jason moves first, reaching for the door handle. Like dominoes, we all fall behind him.
Entering the church is unreal. As I walk toward the sanctuary there are faces, eyes, handshakes, pats on the back, soft cries, and words of sympathy. I don’t recognize most of them, but everyone recognizes me.
My breath catches as I see the pink and white casket sitting front and center in the church. Photos line the wall, of Aundrea with her friends and family, Aundrea at school, on vacations, and with me. Next to the casket is an 8x10 photo of her. She’s sitting outside, in a beach chair, holding her Kindle and sporting a huge smile. There is so much life in that photo. She’s absolutely stunning. It’s my favorite photo of her. It was taken the day I asked her to marry me. We were on vacation in Florida with both our families. Her strawberry blonde hair had grown to her shoulders and it was blowing freely in the wind. I hadn’t planned on asking her that day, but when I looked over at her, I just knew there would never be more perfect moment, or place.
I make my way up the aisle. There’ll never be the perfect time to say your goodbyes or pay your respects to the person you planned on spending your life with, but I know I’ll regret it later if I don’t do it. It takes all my strength to move one foot in front of the other, making my way closer and closer until I’m in front of her. Kneeling in front of the casket, I reach inside to rest my hands on hers.
I start to tremble as I try to find my words. My mouth opens and closes multiple times before the lump finally settles, allowing me to find my voice.
Too many f**king questions! Just send someone to me! To her!
“No … I don’t know … I woke up and she wasn’t breathing. She isn’t breathing! I tri— I tried CPR. Please, you have to—”
I can’t finish. I drop the phone and fall to my knees. I know it’s too late. I know she’s gone, and it f**king hurts. I can feel the knife stabbing into my chest. With each sharp jab I fall forward onto the floor, clutching at the sheet that hangs off the bed, pulling it into my chest and crying harder.
I don’t listen to the voice coming through the phone. I claw at my chest, trying to take whatever is stabbing me out. No matter how hard I try, nothing comes out. It just keeps coming.
Stabbing.
Piercing.
Cutting.
I force myself to stand and bring myself to the bed where Aundrea is. I grab her body into my arms, pulling her to me as I sob.
She doesn’t feel warm.
She’s motionless as I bring my head to the crook of her neck.
She still smells the same. Like honey and sweet pears.
I cry into her neck rocking us back and forth as I pray. “Please God, please let her wake up. Aundrea! Please, baby, open your beautiful eyes. You can’t leave me. Not like this. Please don’t leave me. I need you. I need you. Please don’t go, Aundrea! I love you so f**king much. I need you with me. Open your eyes!”
I’m crying so damn hard that I don’t even hear the paramedics as they force their way into our apartment and into our bedroom.
One minute I’m holding Aundrea, and the next strong arms are pulling me away from her. I scream her name and start to lash out at whoever has their arms around me, moving me away from her body. The solid grip tries to pull me out of the bedroom, but I lash my arms out, grabbing onto the doorframe and stopping us. I can hear the cracks of the wood holding our weight as I try to force myself from not moving.
“No! Please! Please, she needs me! I need to be with her!”
All I see is Aundrea being moved and men hovering over her, calling out words I don’t understand. I don’t pay attention to how many people are in my room. All I focus on is her and trying to get a glimpse of her body every few seconds.
After a while, I give in and allow my weight to fall back on whoever is holding me up. The tears cloud my vision so that I can no longer see what’s unfolding before my eyes. When I hear a man say, to someone coming through the other end of a radio, “Dead on arrival,” I lose it.
Her scent brings me back to the present and, when I feel as if I’ve absorbed every bit of it that may linger in the room, I nod.
There are unspoken words between Genna and me as we make our way down the stairs and to the car.
Words of encouragement.
Words of strength.
Words of mourning.
When Jason turns off the car in the church parking lot, no one moves. Jason and Genna remain seated up front with their hands tangled together, and her parents sit in the back next to me.
I only saw Aundrea’s dad break down in public once: at the hospital. Aundrea’s mom, on the other hand, cries frequently. She’s always carrying a tissue with her no matter the time or place, even when she’s eating. It’s as if everything reminds her of Aundrea. She regularly walks around with her eyes swollen and red.
Genna’s been holding it together pretty well during the day. She lets out a few tears, but she mostly waits until she’s behind closed doors to let it all out. I walked in on her in Aundrea’s old room the day after Aundrea passed away. She was lying in the center of her sister’s neatly made bed, clutching one of her shirts tightly to her chest and shuddering with tears. Her cries grew louder when she felt me on the bed beside her. I don’t know where Jason was, but I knew she needed someone. I rested my hand on her back, rubbing gently, which only made her cry harder. We lay there, with the smell of Aundrea between us, and cried together. I’d never cried so damn hard in my life.
Jason moves first, reaching for the door handle. Like dominoes, we all fall behind him.
Entering the church is unreal. As I walk toward the sanctuary there are faces, eyes, handshakes, pats on the back, soft cries, and words of sympathy. I don’t recognize most of them, but everyone recognizes me.
My breath catches as I see the pink and white casket sitting front and center in the church. Photos line the wall, of Aundrea with her friends and family, Aundrea at school, on vacations, and with me. Next to the casket is an 8x10 photo of her. She’s sitting outside, in a beach chair, holding her Kindle and sporting a huge smile. There is so much life in that photo. She’s absolutely stunning. It’s my favorite photo of her. It was taken the day I asked her to marry me. We were on vacation in Florida with both our families. Her strawberry blonde hair had grown to her shoulders and it was blowing freely in the wind. I hadn’t planned on asking her that day, but when I looked over at her, I just knew there would never be more perfect moment, or place.
I make my way up the aisle. There’ll never be the perfect time to say your goodbyes or pay your respects to the person you planned on spending your life with, but I know I’ll regret it later if I don’t do it. It takes all my strength to move one foot in front of the other, making my way closer and closer until I’m in front of her. Kneeling in front of the casket, I reach inside to rest my hands on hers.
I start to tremble as I try to find my words. My mouth opens and closes multiple times before the lump finally settles, allowing me to find my voice.
