I can hear it on your end of the phone. Say it...wait....don't say it. I know in my heart, by the sound of your voice....
But don't say the words yet. I still have hope. As soon
as you say them, it's a reality, and I know for sure what happened. In this
brief moment of confusion, I can still pray for a miracle.
Don't say it yet. This is the nightmare phone call that every parent dreads. I know it, I can hear it in your voice. I can feel it in my heart, and in the pit of my stomach. She's gone, but don't say it. My ears haven't heard it yet, and my brain doesn't believe it.
Let me stay in limbo a little longer, teetering between old reality and new.
I'm not ready. I don't want to join that club that no one wants to join. Please don't tell me I am now a bereaved parent.
Just don't say it, I still want to pretend....I want you
to tell me that I am over reacting, and that she will be fine. Say it! Let me hear her voice, or her crying in the
background. Tell her that I love her. Tell her I'm coming!! Tell her to hold
on, please Lauren!! I'm coming!!
Wait, don't hang up. With the end of this phone call, my
life is changed. Even though it is excruciating to hang here on the other end
of the phone, it's my last grip on my life as I knew it. Its my last chance to
think of Lauren as alive. When you hang up, the phone call telling me that
she's dead, is official.
I scream, and I cry, and I hand the phone to my sleeping
husband. I watch his face as he understands what I've come to learn. I beg him
to tell me that I didn't hear the person on the other end of the phone right.
Tell me I'm wrong. Please!! Tell me I'm overreacting.
Silent tears fall from my husband's eyes as he puts on
his clothes, and he tells me to do the same. He hugs me and tells me that we
have to go. The other end of the phone has gone silent now, and the reality is
here.
Thank you for calling. Thank you for giving us the
opportunity to go to her. Thank you for being so brave to let us know, instead
of letting us find out later. Thank you for staying with her, and praying with
her. Thank you for asking the paramedics to try again.
Thank you for coming to us later, and telling us that you
stayed, and prayed, and you never left her alone. Thank you for letting us know
that she died with a beautiful smile on her face, and that she looked like a
sleeping angel, laying in the grass.
You were so much more than just the voice in the other
end if the phone. Thank you, for holding
her hand as she passed from this world to the next. God bless you for your
bravery, and your compassion.
T.Rodney
10/28/10
Dedicated to Edison Mayeaux, my angel on the other end of
the phone.