When death comes knocking

"Today"

It was just one  of those days.  The alarm did go off, but for some reason I switched it off without snoozing it.  We overslept.  The kids managed to get breakfast into their stomachs, bread into their lunch boxes and homework into their school bags.  The rest of the day continued a mad rush to get a dozen things a minute done.  No matter how I tried, I always felt two steps behind.

I smiled briefly when I saw the lack of traffic on the road.  I need a break, I told myself, but the comfortable moment was short-lived when an unidentifiable sports car snuck up to my car’s exhaust and nearly crawled inside, flashing its lights furiously for me to get out of the fast lane.  Trucks blocked my way, so I floored the accelerator and my car jumped ahead like a fierce, agitated bull in Pamplona.

The flash from the camera next to the road caught me off guard.  Oh no, I heard myself groan, realizing that my recovery from my speeding addiction was short lived.  At least I will not be late for school, I thought, as the bright red, low-flying Porsche sped past at what must have been way past a hundred miles an hour.  Yeah, and I get caught, I mumbled to myself, my apprehension with this day growing exponentially.

Two students fought in class.  My clear reprimand flowed like water off a duck’s back and dripped onto the carpet where they rolled around in relentless fury.  Calm  down, I said to myself, as I tried to wrestle one off the other without actually hurting them.    While I made a mental note to pencil in another visit to the principal’s office, my phone rang.  I felt blood flush to my head, as I embarrassingly switched it off, a choir of sarcastic “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhs” echoing through the class as the boys enjoyed highlighting their teacher’s error.  It was the mechanic’s number.  I just had a feeling that my wife’s car trouble was yet to get worse.   I braced myself for this day and wondered which God-forsaken corner of hell was having a go at my sanity.

I could barely get out of my car when I got home.   I felt like reclining the driver’s  seat a bit and taking a nap right there in the driveway, but I managed to squeeze the last bit of energy from somewhere and stumbled up the staircase.    No time for charging phones or making coffee, I thought to myself, and aimed straight for the bed, where I slumped faced down and sunk into a restless sleep.

The kids’ voices woke me an unknown amount of time later.  The brain music clip I managed to put on was still playing so I did not really get a decent nap, and rolled out of bed, feeling like a troll crawling from underneath a bridge.

  

My wife’s voice echoed from the kitchen.    Somehow I sensed that it was not a happy voice.  She got her car back, but it was still not fixed, so we will find out by the weekend.    Something else still bothered her.  It hit me when she said that we should phone for Mother’s Day.  Oh my, oh my. I folded my head into my hands.  I was looking for the slightest glimmer of hope to keep the boat of this day floating, but somehow all I felt was a sinking feeling.  That sinking feeling.

 “No one remembered that it was Mother’s Day”, she said, trying to hide the pain in her voice.  It took me a few minutes to respond.  I just sat there.  My expression probably resembled someone given a life-sentence by a stern judge.   The day took the wind out of my sails, so my thoughts were scurrying around like a herd of sheep being attacked by a wolf.  I did not know what to think anymore.

I got up and made a cup of coffee.  The kids, seemingly unaware of the growing uncomfortableness around the dinner table, tried to make small talk about why adults drink so much coffee.  My appetite suddenly left me so I sipped my coffee while I heard that caffeine is the thing which adults are after.  “It keeps them awake”, one of them said, making adults seem like a strange specie part of a biology experiment. 

“Are you not going to eat?”  I did not quite know how to respond.  “I am sorry”, I heard myself say, but could not really get more words out.  The amount of work I had to do tonight exceeded the number of hours available, so my attention span was gravely lacking.   

I got up and made another cup of coffee.   I wondered why the first cup made no difference.  Slowly I managed to nibble on the omelet.   I had to do something.   Isn’t there something I can drink which is stronger than caffeine?  This night will only get worse if I remain in a procrastinating mood, I thought, reflectively.

An injection would do the trick.  I strolled to the fridge and found the box of Vitamin B injections, and mumbled to anyone within earshot that I was going to the clinic quickly to get an injection.

While I got my wallet and car keys, I heard a shout from one of the bedrooms.  “There is poo on my bed!”, I heard my daughter’s voice resound.   My wife was behind her iPad and I thought that since I was already not the most popular person in the house, I could sort this out.  I got a handful of toilet paper to clean the bed when I noticed the pizza-sized stain on the bed too.  Oh no, I thought for the twentieth time, and pulled the sheet off to check the extent of the damage.   I flashed a glare at the timid cat, sitting in the corner.  “I will deal with you later”, I mumbled at her, and she seemingly understood what I meant, scrambling for safety under a couch.

You need to get out of the house now, I heard myself think.  After putting the soiled bed sheet into the washing machine, I announced to anyone listening that I was going to the clinic.  I grabbed my wallet and Vitamin B ampule and strolled towards the front door. 

As I got to the car, I felt that I needed a song to cheer me up.  True to my melancholic nature, I found Madonna’s “Take a Bow”, and the soothing sounds of the intro swept over me while I drove to the clinic.

I don’t know why I love this song so much, I rebuked myself.  It is just a horribly sad song, yet even while I tried to criticize it, it still reduced my grumpiness.  Slightly. 

I parked at the clinic,  just as Madonna sang, “The show is over, say good bye”.  My phone rang.  I wondered if I should bring something from the shop, but my wife’s tone of voice was different.  Something happened.   Family friends just lost their dad in a car crash.  She has to go to be with them. 

I told her to go.   I will get the kids into bed.  I swallowed hard.   For a brief moment, I felt worse, and elated, at the same time.  How could I be so self-obsessed with these trivial, every-day occurrences?  On the other side of town, a family is mourning.    A special friend’s show is over.  And of course, I never did say goodbye.

My fear of needles seemed so distant during the injection.  My mind was elsewhere, feeling the pain of loss.  I still tried to make a joke with the nurse.  “Please don’t hurt me,” I chucked, my sarcasm getting a bit lost, but as I said it, I knew that a different pain was sticking a needle into my soul. 

I felt bad as I left the clinic, because I could feel the injection working right away.  I did not want to feel better.  I wanted to mourn.  I wanted to cry.

I got home just as my wife was leaving.  We both had tears in our eyes.   The frustrations of the day suddenly seemed so insignificant in the face of death.  We saw the truth in each other’s eyes.  A quick hug released the pent up frustrations of earlier. 

Oh God thank you that I am alive, I heard a prayer rising in my calming thoughts. 

A tear rolled down my face.   In another house tonight, they are probably praying, Oh God, why did death have to visit us?

I did not know the answer.  But not knowing, stilled my own superficial questions.  I looked outside, the evening sky filled with stars.   

Darkness, wrapping the world, like death.

But the stars still shine, brightly.     

Author's Note

This is not really a short story, but rather a diary entry. It happened today.

Reviews

[DorothyParker]

If only we could procrastinate being wrapped up within our own worlds.
Everyday on this side of soil, is a day to be thankful for.
Maybe cat needs to be replaced by a hamster or Guinea pig.

[SleeplessVolcano]

Thank you for your reflective comments....
I am becoming a cat psychologist soon with all the techniques I have tried.....:)

Guinea pigs....been there done that.....though I suspect some raised eyebrows at my next addition to the family.......an ostrich :)

[DorothyParker]

No way!!!!

[Nisreen]

May god protect your heart and soul
and may this deceased man rest in peace

I am sorry for your loss