Pieces of My Heart, Part Three: Love

And then I was standing in the rain. Not a single breeze disturbed the air of the afternoon, so the raindrops fell perfectly perpendicular to the ground. I was standing in a cemetery, and a congregation of people dressed in black were gathered 50 yards away.

I walked across the graveyard, careful not to step on any of the tombstones for some reason. The rain fell right through me, and the grass beneath me showed no signs of pressure being put upon it. As far as the living world was concerned, I no longer had any effect on this place or the people inhabiting it. Then why am I here still?

The distance between myself and the funeral was halved from where I had originated, and I could now make out the ceremony clearly through the downpour. A coffin was suspended in a pulley system over an open grave, with an American flag draped over it like a tablecloth. To the right were seven police officers from the force standing at attention. They held rifles in their hands, with the butt of the weapons resting on the wet grass. Jared was the officer standing closest to me, and I could see the pain in his eyes.

To the left, a crowd of about 70 people stood watching. Most of them were just folks from the police force; a few of them I had only met a few times. The rest of them were family and friends. Their clothes clung to their damp skin like lovers embracing. My mother and father were nearest to me. My mom had her head on my dad’s shoulder, and he held her close with his left arm as she silently cried into his shoulder. Her hair was a very pale brown, and had been for many years since she refused to dye it. A strand of it held tight to her wet cheeks, so my father took his index finger and dragged the hair out of her face. My father’s hair had once been a very light blonde, but his age had caught up with him and stolen the life from his follicles. He was a mess, with stray hairs all over his head sticking up at angles that seemed to defy physics. His face had seemed to have aged ten years, with two deeps pockets of sleep below his irritated eyes. I had never seen my father cry before. It broke my heart.

To their right stood Aurora and Amy. Aurora had a black veil draped over her face, and it masked her emotions from the world. She had her hands on Amy’s shoulders, who was standing directly in front of her. The poor girl was trembling from head to toe, with sadness radiating from her like heat from a fireplace in a mountain-top cabin. Aurora held her tight, and the two of them together created the saddest scene imaginable. Slowly, I made my way in front of them, my eyes fixated on Aurora. Once I was a few inches from her, I could see into the veil. Her eyes were focused on the priest, who was standing on a podium overlooking the open grave. He began to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have come here today to mourn the passing of Adam Foley. His life was tragically taken from us one week ago. We are here not to dwell on the present, which is most certainly full of heartbreak and sadness. No, we are here to look back on the life of Adam, who touched so many lives with his kindness. From the time when he was a little boy, Adam had always wanted to grow up to help people. At first he wanted to be a doctor, that helped sick children recover from illness. Then he was to be a fireman, so he could rescue people and animals from danger. By the time he graduated from high school, he had decided to spend his life serving as a police officer, protecting friends and strangers alike. Everyone who knew him knows that he didn’t have an ounce of hatred in his entire body. He had the biggest heart around, and was always willing to break off a little piece of it and give it to anyone he encountered. But the two biggest pieces of his heart, the ones he had been waiting his entire life to give away, belong to his beautiful wife and daughter, Aurora and Amy. Nothing was more important to him then these two, and I can guarantee he is looking down on them right now with a smile on his face. That’s the type of person Adam was; always a smile on his face. The world needs more people like that in it, not less. He may be gone, but each and every one of you here still has a piece of his heart inside of your own right now. Take comfort in that, and let us also take comfort in the fact that his soul is with God now. Please, take a few moments in prayer, as we lower the casket.”

An elderly man steps forward from the crowd, and starts to turn the crank on the pulley system to lower the coffin into the open grave. Jared shouts out the commands, and the seven officers point their rifles to the heavens, and ring out the salute. Amy flinches at the crack of each gunshot as she watches my body enter its final resting place. A dull thud resounds in the air as the casket touches the bottom of the grave. Members of the funeral home begin to pile dirt upon the coffin. Shovel-full after shovel-full of dirt accumulates atop the container, and soon it is no longer visible. After a few minutes, the grave is full. Four men carry the tombstone, and place it upon the grave, making sure it is stable. The priest raises his hands in the air to gain the congregation’s attention, and says, “The ceremony has come to a conclusion. Thank you all for attending. May Adam rest in peace.”

The people in attendance pay their respects at my grave, say their goodbyes to one another, and leave the cemetery. I stood transfixed in the same spot, in awe of everything occurring. Before long, only my parents remained with Aurora and Amy. The four of them stood together, with their arms around one another, eyes closed, praying. When they had finished, Aurora turned to my parents and said, “Could you please take Amy with you to the memorial? I just need a few more minutes. I’ll be right behind you.” “Of course,” said my father. He took Amy’s hand, and the three of them traversed the hallowed grounds to their vehicle. It was just Aurora and I left in the rain.

I stood behind her, afraid to look into her eyes and see the suffering. I could hear her crying softly as she stared at my final resting place. And then she started to talk.

“Adam…I still can’t believe you’re actually gone. If you can hear me right now, wherever you are, there is something I want to tell you. You once told me that I would always have a piece of your heart to keep for myself. But I gave you my whole heart, and I need you to know that you’ll always have it. I don’t need it, knowing it’s safe with you. I love you.”

Aurora pressed her hand to the surface of the tombstone, held it there for a few seconds, and then pulled it away. I finally gained the courage to step forward and look into her eyes. I circled around her right side, until she was right in front of me. The sadness in her eyes pierced my soul, but there was something else there. Something that I saw in her every time I looked into her eyes when I was alive. I could see the love in them. And then she smiled. I turned around to look at the tombstone. It was shaped like an arch, with an inscription on it that read:

ADAM FOLEY

1983-2009

BELOVED SON, HUSBAND, AND FATHER

LOVE KNOWS NO BOUNDARIES, NOT EVEN IN DEATH

I felt the heavy hands of death lift from my shoulders, and then everything was perfect. I turned to look at Aurora one last time. She was smiling still. Perhaps she could feel that I was finally at peace. All the good feelings I had ever felt in life rushed through my body at once. My hands turned transparent directly in front of my eyes, and I felt myself leaving this world forever.

And then everything went black…

Pieces of My Heart, Part Two: Forever

And then I was standing by the front door of my home, looking outside through the panes of glass on either side of the door. My partner on the police force, Jared Hill, was getting out of his police cruiser, dressed in uniform still. His eyes were red and swollen, like he had been crying. He stood by the car for a few moments, just staring at the front door, letting the wind toss around his curly red hair.

And then he walked up the paved walkway to the front door. Standing rigidly on the doormat, he hesitated to ring the doorbell. His finger hovered in the air a few centimeters from the button, seemingly suspended in time. After what seemed like ages, Jared’s finger finally traversed those last few centimeters of open air and rang the doorbell. He withdrew his hand quickly, as if he thought the button would bite off his finger for bringing this news to this doorstep.

And then I heard something stir upstairs. Jared rang the doorbell again, and the bedroom door quietly opened. My gorgeous wife stepped out into the hallway, and began making her way down the stairs. She was dressed in her nightgown, obviously just disturbed from sleep. Her long black hair was a mess, like she had just put her head into a wind turbine. Her bed-head and dazed look brought forth images of Edward Scissorhands. Despite her unkempt hair, she looked as beautiful as ever. She walked towards the front door, and I stepped out of the way, even though I knew she would go right through me. She yawned into her soft hand, and opened the door. Her eyes lit up with surprise upon seeing Jared.

“Jared, what are you doing here? It’s nearly midnight.”

“I’m sorry to wake you Aurora, but…there’s been an accident.”

All of the life vanished from Aurora’s face. Her skin was as pale as the moon. Even her vibrant blue eyes, illuminated by the gentle touch of the porch light, dimmed when those words left Jared’s lips. He continued on.

“On his way here from the station, Adam’s car swerved off the highway into a tree. The paramedics arrived on the scene after only a few minutes, but…they were too late to save him. I’m so sorry, Aurora.”

Aurora’s lip quivered, and then she burst into tears. Her knees quaked beneath her, and she fell. Jared darted through the door and caught Aurora before she hit the tile. She put her arms around Jared, and cried into his shoulder. Jared closed his eyes as tears started to trickle down his own face. He whispered words of assurance into her ear such as, “It’s going to be OK,” even though he knew it was not.

For awhile, they just cried. I want to shout, “I’m right here!” to stop their suffering. But they can’t hear me anymore. I fall to my knees next to them and stretch out my arms to comfort them both. My limbs pass through them, just as before. I try, and I try, and I try, but still they have no idea of my presence. If I could just tell them one last time how much they mean to me…if I could just wrap my arms around them both for a few seconds…everything would be at peace. Instead, I sit here as an unseen spectator to their despair.

After many minutes of crying, they finally regain some sense of control. Jared lets go of Aurora and helps her to her feet. And then he says, “I have to get back to the station. I just wanted to come here myself to tell you what happened. If you need anything Aurora, anything at all, just call me. We’ll help each other through this. I’ll call you in the morning to check up on you.”

“Thank you, Jared. I’ll be alright. Stay safe.”

Jared stood there, staring at Aurora, and then turned to leave. Aurora shut the door behind him, turned her back to it, and then fell to the floor again. She propped her arms onto her knees, and then buried her face into her arms and cried. Her whispered sobs didn’t carry much further than ten feet, but they rocked my being to the very core. She seemed so helpless, sitting there. If she feels anything like I do right now, she knows that a part of her is gone, and that piece of her will be empty forever.

I sit down beside her, and get as close to her body as I can without passing through it. I lean my head to the side as if I were going to rest it on her shoulder, and I cry with her. And even though I know she will not hear me, I start to talk to her.

“Aurora, I love you so much. This is all my fault, I shouldn’t have been driving knowing how exhausted I was. I made a stupid mistake, and I hope you can forgive me. You’re my everything, and I’ll be with you forever, OK? Please babe, hear me. Just hear me. Seeing your face in the morning was my favorite part of every day. No matter how awful the day was, everything stopped hurting when I looked in your eyes. If only I could tell you how much I love you. Please babe…hear me.”

But she continued crying, oblivious to the fact that I was right here with her. Her breathing started to return to normal, and she lifted her head from her arms. Her entire face was soaked with her tears, and the light from the moon made her glimmer. Even drenched in tears, she was beautiful. She grabbed the bottom of her nightgown and wiped her face with it. She let out a soft whimper, which is what she always did when she was finished crying. I had only seen her cry on two other occasions. One was on our wedding day, and the other was when her father passed away.

Slowly, she rose to her feet. Her balance wavered for a moment, but she regained her composure. Then she walked up the stairs, but instead of walking into her room, she turned left down the hallway, and went into Amy’s room. I followed her in.

Amy was sound asleep, laying under the covers. Her blanket had a dozen different horses all over it. She loved horses. I promised her that when we had the money, I would buy her a horse that she could have all to herself. Just one of the many promises that went unfulfilled.

She has long black hair and blue eyes, just like her mother. She is smirking for some reason. She must be having a really good dream. How heartbreaking that she has to return to reality to the news that her father is dead. If only I could save her from that, I would. Only seven years old, and already she has to deal with the loss of a parent. I let her down. Aurora approached the bed, and sat down on the edge. She grabbed some of Amy’s hair, and ran her fingers through it. And then she leaned forward, kissed her on the forehead, and said delicately, “Amy, wake up. I have to tell you something.”

Amy scrunched up her face in annoyance, and turned onto her back. Her eyelids peeled back a tiny bit, just enough to see her mother’s face. After a deep inhale/exhale, Amy said to her mother, “What is it, mommy?”

“Honey, I’ve got some bad news. Daddy…daddy isn’t going to be coming home.”

“How come? Will he be back soon?”

“No, Amy. His car crashed, and the doctors weren’t able to save him. He’s…gone.” “Mommy…do you mean daddy is dead?”

Such a blunt response from such a little girl. I’m not sure she is really old enough to understand the severity of those words, but she understands the concept of being dead. It’s when a person goes to sleep and never wakes up. “Yes Amy, that’s…that’s what I mean.”

Aurora’s eyes started to swell up with tears again. The first one emerged from her tear duct, and Amy reached up with her thumb and wiped the tear away. And then she said: “Mommy…will we ever see Dad again?”

I want to shout out to her, “I’m right here Amy, don’t worry. I’ll never leave you!” I would do anything in the world for just a few more seconds with my wife and daughter. I would spend an eternity of damnation if it meant I could come back to this moment in time and put my arms around my daughter one last time. I’d roam the earth forever like this if it meant I could just kiss my wife and tell her I love her. More tears made their way down Aurora’s face; too many for Amy to wipe off with her thumb.

“No…no, we won’t. Dad is gone forever.”

And then everything went black.

It's been awhiiiile.

Since I could, hold my head up hiiiigh.

Nothing like nu metal ballads from my childhood. In all seriousness though, it has been awhile since I used this blog as a creative outlet. Partly out of lack of motivation, partly out of being too preoccupied with schoolwork, and partly out of a severe creative drought. But with summer quickly approaching, I can already see myself with more free time then I can handle. So I figure, what better time then now to get back into writing?

What I have for you today is part one of a three part short story I wrote last year for my senior project. Rereading through this thing was quite an eye-opener, as I found the quality to be less than satisfying. But, I liked the concept enough to heavily edit the story, and now I've come up with the new and improved version. While I'm still not very satisfied with it, I know one or two of you enjoy reading my stuff. And who am I to deprive you of that. So without further ado, this is Pieces of My Heart, Part One: The Crash.

Everything went black.

And then I was standing off the road, looking at the wreck. I must have fallen asleep at the wheel and veered into the forest. The car was unrecognizable, a mangled mess. Why am I not hurt? And why don’t I remember getting out of the car?

I was standing on the edge of the forest, where the gravel turned to grass. The sun had set three hours previously, but the forest still had its glow from the daylight. After a few seconds, my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I saw the car.

The vehicle had been compressed to nearly half its original length by the force of impact. The hood looked like tin foil, and the left axel was pushed up into the car at an awkward angle. Debris from the crash was scattered as far as twenty feet, and the front bumper was a tangled mess resting on the ground to the left of the carnage.

I reached into my pocket to grab my cell phone, but my pocket was empty. The phone must fallen out during the accident. I hear a car door slam behind me, and I turn to look. A woman had pulled over to the shoulder of the road and was making her way down the incline, slipping and sliding on the precipitation clinging to blades of grass.. She must have seen the accident. “Hey! It’s alright, I’m OK! I was the only one in the car.”

The woman continued advancing towards the wreck as if she had not heard me. “Thank you for stopping, ma’am. Nobody is hurt. Please, could you call an ambulance?

Again the woman acted as if she did not know I was talking to her. She had not even acknowledged my presence yet. She looked to be about 28 years old, and her frizzy brown hair was fluttering in the brisk breeze in her wake. The look on her face was one of shock, and her movements reflected that. “Excuse me. Miss?”

The girl walked toward me, and continued past me, without missing a step. She approached the car, and circled around to the driver’s side. Then a sharp gasp, and the woman said, “Sir! Can you hear me!? Please, say something…sir!? Oh no…”

Who could she possibly be talking to? I was alone in the car.

I try to look inside the vehicle from the passenger side, but shrapnel from the roof of the car impairs my view. So I circle around the tree to the driver’s side and the panicked woman. I ask her, “Miss, who are you talking to? There isn’t anyone in the car, I was the driver. Excuse me.” I reach out to touch the woman on the shoulder, but then I see who she’s talking to.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, brutalized and bloodied, is me. My face is plastered with blood, but there is no doubt that it is me. My eyes are empty, and they stare off into nothing. A thin piece of metal is protruding from my abdomen, and the wound oozes blood onto my lap. Nearly submerged in a pool of blood on my lap, is the picture of my little girl that was hanging from the rearview mirror. The picture is stained red, and my daughter’s face is the only fragment of the photo not obstructed by my blood. Her kind eyes seem to look right through me. For a few moments, I am overwhelmed by fear. I stare deep into the picture and cry, until finally the blood overtakes her, and my angel’s face sinks into the pool of death.

This cannot be happening. I turn to the woman, and reach out to touch her face. My hand moves forward, but it passes right through her. Desperately I swipe at her body, but all of the strikes pierce the seemingly solid mass, leaving no signs of disturbance. And so I scream, “HELLO!!! PLEASE, HEAR ME!!! AM I DEAD!!! Am I dead…?” My attempts at getting her attention fail, and she runs frantically back up the incline to her car.

So here I stand, with tears streaming down my face and the wind howling. But I can’t feel it. I’ll never be able to feel anything again. Am I dead? Am I a ghost? What is it I am supposed to do now…

The woman is standing back on the shoulder of the road, with a cell phone pressed against her ear and her other hand at her hip. She looks scared. She is the first one to know of my death. A random stranger.

For years, I’ve always wondered to myself how people I know would react when they found out the news that I had died. I suppose I am just curious as to how important I am in their lives. Would they break down and cry? Would they say everything they wanted to tell me when I was still alive? Would they even care? People do not cry when they read in the papers about a man murdering his wife when he found out she was cheating. People do not cry when they find out that a teenager hundreds of miles away drove her car off of a bridge. People cry when death is personal. When a friend commits suicide, then people cry. When a family member dies of old age, or has their life taken from them, then people cry. You can tell how much someone cared about another person by the way they react to the news of their death. So now I find myself wondering…how will people react to the news of my death?

And then everything went black.