Thursday, September 29, 2011

May 17, 2011 After 4:10 PM, Facing a New Reality

I was lead from the Family Room to the Emergency Room.  I was crossing my arms across my chest; hugging myself – clutching my hat in one hand.  I didn’t want to see my son lifeless.  I wanted to see him sitting up in a gurney, embarrassed with a cut, a broken arm or leg.  But that wasn’t meant to be.  He laid there hospital gown and sheet.  The intubation tube still in his mouth, his eyes partially closed and glassy; his hands pale and not returning my grasps – blood covered the floor.  I shook him, begging him to wake up.  I could feel the defibrillator pads on his torso. 

“Tim! Monk! Wake up, please – you’re scaring me.”

I leaned and kissed his head, picked up his and kissed it.  I couldn’t accept this.  I wouldn’t accept it.

Why?  Why? Why?

A felt someone behind me.  It was a priest.

“Mister Connors…”

I was hunched over my son.  I turned my head to face the priest.  He was a small man, balding, wearing his black suit and Roman collar.  He stood next to an older woman with reddish hair.

“Father there is nothing the Church can give me.  I live in a vengeful world and I want vengeance for this.  I want the head of who ever did this to my son!  I want it on a stick!”

The priest excused himself and took a step or two back and turned on his heel.  He left quietly and didn’t protest.

The blonde nurse brought a chair and set it behind me.  I could only feel the sting of salt as my tears flowed heavy.  I sat down in the chair and was rocking as I held Timmy’s hand.  Why did he have to have my hands?  Why did he have to resemble me so much?  I saw so much blood.  I looked down at my hands.  Tim’s blood began to dry on my hands.  I saw it on the front of my shirt.  I felt how it was beginning to dry.

 I had some on my face from brushing away tears.

No! No! No! No! No! NO!