Which Way From Here - page 1
Filed in:
Chapter One
Written By: Joshua Murphy Pleasantville NY
A single tear slides effortlessly down my cheek. Sitting with my fingers clenched, disbelief slowly fills my thoughts. I turn my forearm just slightly to check the time and see that it's a quarter past three. I can’t remember why a quarter past three feels so important. It meant something to me today, but what? Resting my elbows on my knees, I unclench my hands and lay my head softly into them. Immediately all control of my physical movement is gone. I could feel deep down somewhere inside of me the hold I had on my emotions was also slipping. Everything went black there existed no past, present, or future. I seemed to be in a constant state of emptiness. Noises which moments before had been overwhelming seem muffled, almost non-existent. I could see a single tear slip off of my chin and make its way towards the cold linoleum of the gray speckled floor. It seemed to defy gravity and time as it crept closer and closer to the ground. With a tiny splash the tear hit the linoleum. As I watched that little tear break apart, I felt the crying begin. Knowing that holding it in would only make it worse I decide to let it out. Then at that very moment I felt a hand on my shoulder but couldn’t look up; I don’t care who's hovering over me, because I know that it isn’t who I want it to be!
Every so often there is a moment that sneaks its way past our everyday routines and inserts itself into our lives. You know one of those moments that change everything. One of those moments that can never be predicted. These might be a positive change or event, but 99 times out of 100, this moment is horrific. Oddly it usually impacts us through a simple little sentence. You would think that such a life defining moment would take more than just a noun and a verb to have such an effect but it doesn’t. Someone died. You have cancer. A plane hit the world trade center. The President was shot. These moments are unexpected and impact each of us differently. They do however have one common denominator. They change us. These events pull us out of our everyday routines, like a fish being hooked and pulled out of the water. Then as if that wasn’t enough this thing latches on to you and stays with you morning, noon and night. You wake up and instead of thinking about breakfast you relive this moment. Instead of talking about last nights TV show with your coworkers you sit around, alone and think about this moment. Instead of going to bed you pace and try to remember what it was like before the moment. This moment is full of stomach-tightening agony and that’s only the beginning.
We did everything we could. That was my moment. That sentence was all it took to change my life and me forever. How could I not change? The most important thing in my life had been taken from me. In the two seconds it took for the doctor to tell me Michelle was gone thousands of thoughts pushed past each other to reach my consciousness. I was no longer happily married expecting a child. I would never see her again; I would never touch her again. I would never hold her again. When did I last see her? What was the last thing I said to her? I would never talk to her again. Why? I couldn’t stand. I had to sit. I slowly moved myself over to one of the chairs in the waiting room. It had a light blue cloth seat and a dark metal frame. As soon as I eased myself into the chair I knew it hadn’t been placed there as a sign of compassion but merely because some plans called for a chair. Suddenly one thought made it’s way into my consciousness. A thought that I truly didn’t want but one that seemed to hold me trapped in that horrible chair. She’s gone. That's it no heaven, no reincarnation, no anything, just gone. Everything that she had ever been, gone. That wonderful fun loving carefree person gone. She was simply a corpse lying on a table in the other room. There has to be more, right?
A single tear slides effortlessly down my cheek. Sitting with my fingers clenched, disbelief slowly fills my thoughts. I turn my forearm just slightly to check the time and see that it's a quarter past three. I can’t remember why a quarter past three feels so important. It meant something to me today, but what? Resting my elbows on my knees, I unclench my hands and lay my head softly into them. Immediately all control of my physical movement is gone. I could feel deep down somewhere inside of me the hold I had on my emotions was also slipping. Everything went black there existed no past, present, or future. I seemed to be in a constant state of emptiness. Noises which moments before had been overwhelming seem muffled, almost non-existent. I could see a single tear slip off of my chin and make its way towards the cold linoleum of the gray speckled floor. It seemed to defy gravity and time as it crept closer and closer to the ground. With a tiny splash the tear hit the linoleum. As I watched that little tear break apart, I felt the crying begin. Knowing that holding it in would only make it worse I decide to let it out. Then at that very moment I felt a hand on my shoulder but couldn’t look up; I don’t care who's hovering over me, because I know that it isn’t who I want it to be!
Every so often there is a moment that sneaks its way past our everyday routines and inserts itself into our lives. You know one of those moments that change everything. One of those moments that can never be predicted. These might be a positive change or event, but 99 times out of 100, this moment is horrific. Oddly it usually impacts us through a simple little sentence. You would think that such a life defining moment would take more than just a noun and a verb to have such an effect but it doesn’t. Someone died. You have cancer. A plane hit the world trade center. The President was shot. These moments are unexpected and impact each of us differently. They do however have one common denominator. They change us. These events pull us out of our everyday routines, like a fish being hooked and pulled out of the water. Then as if that wasn’t enough this thing latches on to you and stays with you morning, noon and night. You wake up and instead of thinking about breakfast you relive this moment. Instead of talking about last nights TV show with your coworkers you sit around, alone and think about this moment. Instead of going to bed you pace and try to remember what it was like before the moment. This moment is full of stomach-tightening agony and that’s only the beginning.
We did everything we could. That was my moment. That sentence was all it took to change my life and me forever. How could I not change? The most important thing in my life had been taken from me. In the two seconds it took for the doctor to tell me Michelle was gone thousands of thoughts pushed past each other to reach my consciousness. I was no longer happily married expecting a child. I would never see her again; I would never touch her again. I would never hold her again. When did I last see her? What was the last thing I said to her? I would never talk to her again. Why? I couldn’t stand. I had to sit. I slowly moved myself over to one of the chairs in the waiting room. It had a light blue cloth seat and a dark metal frame. As soon as I eased myself into the chair I knew it hadn’t been placed there as a sign of compassion but merely because some plans called for a chair. Suddenly one thought made it’s way into my consciousness. A thought that I truly didn’t want but one that seemed to hold me trapped in that horrible chair. She’s gone. That's it no heaven, no reincarnation, no anything, just gone. Everything that she had ever been, gone. That wonderful fun loving carefree person gone. She was simply a corpse lying on a table in the other room. There has to be more, right?
