The Other Side Of Time
If you wanna live, you gotta lose.
She woke up in the middle of the night, uneasy, and shuffled to the restroom. Struggling to breathe, she called for him. They thought it best to call an ambulance. She would be ushered on ahead of him. He followed behind, unconcerned, as they’d done this before.
He arrived at the hospital shortly thereafter. Upon signing in he was met by a doctor and taken to a private room. They had been trying their best for the last fifteen minutes to resuscitate her but had been unsuccessful. What did he want them to do? The orders were inked on a sheet somewhere, but out of courtesy, he was consulted. It was over. She was gone.
He was allowed into the room where she lay. Eyes closed. The two of them. They held hands until he departed. Alone. For the first time.
This story was relayed to me by my friend of many years. His mother had died. He was driving to see his father. A father who had just lost his wife. Unexpectedly. The expanse of sadness can only be assuaged by the presence of those other relationships that exist in concentric circles outside of the one temporarily fractured.
His voice was steady as he drove with his son in the backseat and his wife upfront. He’s always been steady. An anchor of indiscernible strength. Mellow without being aloof. And…
