The Haunting
"SHUT UP!"
The words haunt me now. Much like the phrase that can still be found on t-shirts,
"I can't breathe!"
While she was on the gurney in the ambulance pleading for some help to breathe, I was pleading too, begging for someone to help her. The paramedic never did anything. He claimed the truck wasn't equipped. So once she gathered all the oxygen she could summon, her last words to me were,
"I LOVE YOU!"
As loud and as strong as I had ever heard the words from her mouth. It felt like a huge boulder being thrown at me, like she really needed me to know it. It took every ounce of strength out of her and I responded,
"Shut up."
It was practically whispered in comparison, but I promptly apologized and told her,
"I love you too".
I just didn't want her to spare, precious breaths on a sentiment that I had felt my whole life. There isn't much that I know more than my Mama loves me. It's been the basis of my existence, that she loves me. There were countless songs to silence tears, to lull me to sleep, to distract from any hurts the world might toss my way, not to mention the notes and cards she always signed "YELM" (Your Ever Loving Mama) for confirmation. So she knew, that I knew.
And though I quickly apologized for such rude language spoken in the most inappropriate of times, the words still haunt me. They have reappeared in our home out the mouth of my son. A boy who is only just now finding his voice, so it's extra hard to suddenly tell him NOT to use it! When he first uttered the words,
"Shut Up!"
I was shocked because I was immediately taken back to those final moments in that ambulance.
How could those words find me through the most precious of vessels, my son?
I guess Mama might've asked the same thing to herself when I said it.
Our last moments together in that ambulance haunt me, the rude phrase I said to my most cherished person haunts me but most of all not having the words to comfort her when she needed them haunts me.
The phrase 'shut up' now hurts more because it reminds me of the time I was quiet when words of consolation were what Ma needed.
The words haunt me now. Much like the phrase that can still be found on t-shirts,
"I can't breathe!"
While she was on the gurney in the ambulance pleading for some help to breathe, I was pleading too, begging for someone to help her. The paramedic never did anything. He claimed the truck wasn't equipped. So once she gathered all the oxygen she could summon, her last words to me were,
"I LOVE YOU!"
As loud and as strong as I had ever heard the words from her mouth. It felt like a huge boulder being thrown at me, like she really needed me to know it. It took every ounce of strength out of her and I responded,
"Shut up."
It was practically whispered in comparison, but I promptly apologized and told her,
"I love you too".
I just didn't want her to spare, precious breaths on a sentiment that I had felt my whole life. There isn't much that I know more than my Mama loves me. It's been the basis of my existence, that she loves me. There were countless songs to silence tears, to lull me to sleep, to distract from any hurts the world might toss my way, not to mention the notes and cards she always signed "YELM" (Your Ever Loving Mama) for confirmation. So she knew, that I knew.
And though I quickly apologized for such rude language spoken in the most inappropriate of times, the words still haunt me. They have reappeared in our home out the mouth of my son. A boy who is only just now finding his voice, so it's extra hard to suddenly tell him NOT to use it! When he first uttered the words,
"Shut Up!"
I was shocked because I was immediately taken back to those final moments in that ambulance.
How could those words find me through the most precious of vessels, my son?
I guess Mama might've asked the same thing to herself when I said it.
Our last moments together in that ambulance haunt me, the rude phrase I said to my most cherished person haunts me but most of all not having the words to comfort her when she needed them haunts me.
The phrase 'shut up' now hurts more because it reminds me of the time I was quiet when words of consolation were what Ma needed.
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