A sad day

Last Sunday marked a sad day for me. I spent the day at the ER with my beloved girlfriend. We'd left camp early and headed to the ER because she wasn't feeling well and we didn't want to take any chances as she was carrying our first child. It was a long painful wait before they shipped us upstairs to ultrasound. The ultrasound tech poked and prodded snapping picture after picture. She didn't say much but I had a pretty good idea as to what was going on. Back downstairs we wheeled to wait for the Dr. A few short minutes and he confirmed my worst fear. The ultrasound tech found no heartbeat. The child we'd already grown to love was no longer alive. The Dr's attempt at comforting words might as well have fallen on deaf ears. No words could take away the pain I felt that day.
     Bright and early the next morning we were off to see the specialist. A specialist that failed to wait for the anesthetic to kick in before they took the dead fetus out. I sat in the waiting room overcome with a flood of emotions while listening to my love scream in pain. The pain of losing our unborn child spawned into anger when I heard her screams. Anger toward what I'm not sure. The world perhaps? Each day has been a wrestle of trying to keep a balance between hiding my pain and comforting hers.
   I've worked hard to mentally prepare myself for many things in my life. My oldest brother passed away in a fire when I was nine; after he woke the other adults where he was staying he went back in for the three children. Sadly he was unable to save the children or himself. That was the point that being the youngest I understood I may outlive my other brother. When I was 21 I got a phone call saying my father had been in a motorcycle accident. I spent a long lonesome ride up the interstate not knowing whether my father would be alive when I arrived at the hospital. It was then that it really set in that I'd have to face the fact that I'd someday bury my parents. The nights I spent awake gun in hand after a crackhead threatened to burn my house down. Nights where I had to come to terms with the fact that it could very well come down to taking his life to save my own.  
    That last post about hand digging a grave. That was a true story of my brother, some dear friends and I digging a grave to place a dear friend in. Granted it was a group of friends gathered to dig a grave for a dear friend who'd died of a heart attack; but I can assure you no matter what the circumstances are hand digging a grave is an experience you won't soon forget.
  One of few scenarios I hadn't counted on experiencing was the loss of a child. Granted our baby was a ways off from coming into this world. A ways off or not I'd already grown to love it. It made me at least see the tip of the iceberg as far as what my parents felt when my brother died. It's 3:03 am as I type away on this and I hope sleep will come when I log off.

Narrative

It was a dismal late September afternoon in central Maine. Miles down a dirt road five men are standing under a large pine tree. Rain beating down upon them it’s a wonder why anyone would be out in such weather. Let alone a group such as this. This is a group you wouldn’t expect to see working together. Two city kids in their high end coats and designer jeans. A clean cut Charlie Sheen looking character, a tall man wearing an army airborne cap. Then there was a sizable fellow wearing a black leather riding coat, a pair of well worn Levis and a pair of riding boots. A pair of aviators cover his eyes in hopes to hide his plethora of sins. That man clad in leather was the only one you’d expect to find in such a scene. Under that pine tree the five men were passing a shovel back and forth as they dug a sizable hole. With long faces they dig like they’re on a mission. The men pause only long enough to pass the shovel back and forth. The shovel is passed many times as the hole gets deeper. Through those aviators a watchful eye could see the wheels turning in the leather clad man’s head. He’d run through this scenario many times before but never expected it to be quite like this. He’d never doubted that he’d one day find himself hand digging a grave somewhere alongside a dirt road. He’d just never expected it to be during daylight and certainly not with this particular group of acquaintances. A moonless night would have been comforting to him. In fact the only part of the situation that fit was that everyone present had a hand in it. All men present were equally involved and therefore no one was innocent. Little was said after the men finished their digging. An eerily casual nod amongst them and they were making tracks.  

It was the first, but not the best-or was it?

It was the first, but not the best-or was it? My 1975 Honda 400F was my first streetbike. It was beautiful in my eyes. Black paint so shiny it seemed like you could dive right in. It has a limited production pipe; mullholland shocks and enough other performance parts to make this a long and boring read. With all those top notch parts and pieces the bike had a look and a sound that made me feel like a hero any time I rode it. With a top speed of about 108mph it wasn’t exactly fast as streetbikes go; but it was fast for what it was. I used to be able to leave the house and redline through every gear before the first turn. Downshift twice and through that first right hand bend with foot peg dragging and tachometer well into redline. I loved listening to those four little cylinders howling a song out through the pipe. Downshift once more and run through the left hand turn that was rapidly approaching pulling the weight off the left peg as I leaned harder into the turn. Down over the hill I come to a halt at the bridge. This scenario played out day after day when the sun was shining. It was my first and I’ve never ridden another that put me into that same hero mindset. I’m always looking ahead knowing the best is yet to come. We all know you can’t go back.

Dialogue

Indentured Dave,” Well I’m Big Bad Jake and I’m the best”

Jake, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Indentured Dave, “You”

Jake, “I never once referred to myself as anything, sure as fuck didn’t talk about myself in third person”

Indentured Dave,“ You don’t have to, it’s the way you are”

Jake,” whaddayamean?”

Indentured Dave, “Every time you open your mouth its like you’re just pointing out you’re the best”

Jake,” Fuck you”

Indentured Dave,” I’m not trying to be a dick”

Jake,” you don’t have to try”

Indentured Dave,” whatever”

Jake,” don’t whatever me”

Indentured Dave,” like your truck, every time it comes up in conversation you talk about how tough it is”

Jake,” says the guy that wants me to take MY truck and MY car trailer to fucking Poughkeepsie to get your piece of shit car”

Indentured Dave,” well yeah”

Jake,” why should I go get your car?”

Indentured Dave,” cause you’re the only one I know that will haul that far”

Jake,” say it”

Indentured Dave,” cause you’re the best”

Jake,” don’t you forget it, especially when we’re hauling your piece of shit car out of the ghetto”

Indentured Dave,” yeah yeah”

Jake,” one more yeah and you could be a Beatle”

Indentured Dave,” Huh?”

Jake,” nevermind”

Indentured Dave,” f u”

Kayla,” you’re lucky you’re a big guy”

Jake,” huh?”

Kayla,” the way you talk”

Jake,” what’s wrong with the way I speak?”

Kayla,” that’s just it”

Jake,” okay?”

Kayla,” saying what’s wrong with the way I speak”

Jake,” I’m not following you”

Kayla,” Most anyone else would have said something along the lines of I don’t talk funny”

Jake,” care to elaborate?”

Kayla,” you use words most people up here have never even heard”

Jake,” so what, I’m a loser that fell asleep reading the dictionary more times than I care to admit”

Kayla, ”really?”

Jake,” sadly”

Kayla,” oh”

Jake,” I’m just a hick with a good vocabulary”

Kayla,” there’s more to it than that, you talk like you’re better than everyone else”

Jake,” I don’t mean to, I was just raised to be the better person; perhaps I took it too literally”

Kip,” Is that a real gun?”

Jake,” Yes”

Kip,” Is it loaded?”

Jake,” Yes, why would I carry a gun that wasn’t loaded?”

Kip,” why would you carry a gun at all?”

Jake,” cause a cop is minutes away”

Kip,”Fair enough”

I sit alone in a quiet room. With mind racing I shut out the lights to try and minimize stimulations. I sit longing for peace from outside influence. Quickly I realize that the immediate look of darkness isn’t what I’d hoped. As my eyes adjust to the darkness shapes become clearer. The collage of black and white photos on the wall opposite me appears as my eyes adjust. Slowly the shape of the single engine plane in one of the photos takes shape. A lone figure in a hallway the subject of another photo comes to light. Only one other of the group has enough contrast for me to identify with the lack of light. It’s a group of headstones in a long ago forgotten cemetery. To my left is a window sill with my wireless router blinking aimlessly on it. Below that is the Rinnai heater with its faint green light on subtly stating it was all systems go. Out of the corner of my eye there’s motion from the lights of a large plane flying over.

Alone in a quiet room

I sit alone in a quiet room. Here I sit on my overstuffed green couch under my fuzzy green blanket. Sitting here I hear the wind blowing the sleet against the tin roof. It’s a new sound for me. I just moved into this flat the second week in December. I find enjoyment listening to the sleet while under my green blanket. Listening to the sleet was well on its way to easing whatever was on my mind. Then the Rinnai heater kicked on and ruined my listening to the weather with an intrusion of mechanical noise. A faint rumble as it comes up to temperature. Now up to temperature the fan kicks on adding a whirring noise to the mix. Though a fairly quiet source of heat it aggravates me. I’ve spent far too many hours in noisy garages. The countless hours I spent with an air impact gun in my hand hammering away on whatever euro-trash car needed a clutch or strut on any given day. Now even faint mechanical noises grate on me.

Friday

Friday was one of those days where it seemed as if I couldn’t get out of my own way. I realize we all have days like that but this took it to a new level for me. “Smart Phone” blowing up at 5am to tell me via phone call, text message and email that there was no class. Great that I had didn’t have to drive to Emcc in the lovely weather we were having. Sucky that it was 5am and I was now awake. O-well back to bed I went to toss and turn for a while. I cooked pancakes and cut up some fresh fruit for Kayla and I. After a rather tasty breakfast I lounge about for a bit to try and ease the pain in my back. The pain leftover from assembling a 4 post lift in the new shop I was setting up. Bad Dave stopped in on his way home from a short day at work. Dave stopping in was nice cause now I had someone to help guide me in driving up to my plow. I had Dave get in the truck so I could wiggle the plow pins in just the right direction to get them engaged. As I walked in between the truck and plow to wiggle the second pin and my feet went out from under me. I managed to catch my left forearm on the corner of the plow as I went down. Now bleeding like a stuck pig from the large gouge in my forearm and nursing the bruise on my ass from landing with most of my weight on the corner of the plow frame. I limped my way into my flat and washed the salt sand and blood from my arm. Kayla running over as she realized I was bleeding and insisting on my taking proper care of it. Dave finally wandering in to see why I’d run off, somehow he missed my fall.

Now that I was clean and bandaged up Kayla and I were off to plow a friends yard after bidding Dave farewell. Our twenty mile ride went smoothly enough and the act of plowing went well till the last pass. I rarely plow with the windows open and I was brutally reminded why as the branch from the white birch smashed my upper lip. I gasped at the sudden violation to my space, then caught the faint taste of blood. Flipping the dome light on in the truck I turned to look at Kayla to survey the damage. Fortunately it was just a minor fat lip and some aggravation.  We stopped off at my friend Luke’s to plow on the way home which was amazingly uneventful. Bad Dave called when we were almost home explaining his truck wasn’t running well and he hadn’t finished plowing. He went on to ask if I could bring the truck when Kayla and I went there for dinner. Kayla suggested that she follow me in the car so I could have a few drinks with dinner and she would drive me home. Seemed like a good plan to me.

 When I left our flat in the truck Kayla followed along in her beloved Mazda which she had affectionately dubbed “Trista”.  As I cruised along at about 30 mph in my big diesel Ford I looked in my rear view mirror and witnessed a scary event. I saw Trista spin in the road and slide backwards into a telephone pole.  My reaction started before Trista even stopped moving, piling on the brakes and bringing my truck around in the road as soon as I realized the road was clear to do so. Amazing how quick things happen when you’re concerned with a loved one. As my truck screeched to a halt in front of the car Kayla stumbled toward the road dazed from the impact. She’d blacked out on impact and was unsure where the last minute or two had gone. After pulling her tight to me and trying to be sure that she was uninjured I hooked the car and pulled it from the pole and into the road. Once I’d pulled it clear of the pole I came to the realization that it was totaled. After giving Kayla another once over to make sure she could still wiggle all her parts and that her eyes were still pointed ahead I had her drive Trista across the street into the local ball field to wait for the county sheriff to come file a report. As the sheriff sat filing his report I stood in the rain reeling in the last few minutes of emotions. In the short ride from the accident scene to the flat Kayla allowed that her neck didn’t move very well.  It was a strong practice in self-control to not make the Ford grow wings on our way to the ER.

  The ride to Eastern Maine’s ER seemed to take forever on that dismal night. Once checked in at the ER it was just a short wait before they took Kayla in and put her in a neck brace. With a mix of emotions we sat waiting for the next Dr to come in and check her over. It wasn’t long and the Dr ordered up some anti-spasm meds and some anti-inflammatory meds. The meds kicked in while we waited on someone to take Kayla to X-ray. I sat waiting what seemed like forever after the nurse wheeled her off to X-ray. I’m sure it probably wasn’t long at all but what time it was seemed agonizing. When the nurse wheeled Kayla back in to me she was loopy from the drugs. At least she was feeling no pain at this point. We chatted back and forth about random nonsense while we waited for the Dr to make the time pass quicker. Finally the Dr came in with a handful of X-rays; he pointed out that everything was ok. The pain was just a matter of some pulled muscles and bruises from the impact. The Dr wrote Kayla a couple prescriptions, made some recommendations and sent us on our way.

Some days it still amazes me what course of events can happen in such a short time frame.