dead

He was swimming in the pool.  His brother was snowboarding down some mountain and he wanted to be there more than anything else.  But the pool would help his knee and if he snowboarded too much his knee would let out and hurt like mad.  His mom walked into the pool room.  She was shaking and crying and he didn't know what was wrong.  He stood up where the water was shallow and asked her what was wrong.  She was a strong lady, she had been through a lot in her life, she did not cry easily.  She spoke through the tears and suddenly he felt like he was drowning.  Not from the water in the pool but the news that flooded his head.  He felt like he was drawing water with every breath, air would be able to clear his head, he would be able to understand the news if he could breath.  He felt a tear burn a track down his face.  He saw it drop into the water and disappear, the little warm salty drop lost in the chlorinated pool of tears.  He had nothing to say, no where to go and no one to take comfort in. His mom was there but she was mourning too. She could not bring him comfort.  His grandfather was dead.  
It was cold at his cottage.  The mountain air was crisp and the ground was covered in a layer of powdered snow.  He walked out of the pool room, out of the house and out of the warmth.  No shoes, no shirt, soaked.  He didn't care.  He didn't feel the snow on his toes and he could barely feel the wind on his chest.  He didn't care that the water in his hair and on his shorts were freezing.  He didn't care that he was shivering or that his feet were getting cut up.  His Opa was dead.   
On the side of the road a mile down was an untouched perfect piece of snow covered grass.  He lay down on his back with his arms out as if getting ready to make a snow angel.  He didn't think about much.  He couldn't cry then, the only tear he shed was the one lost in the pool.  They would have frozen on his face if he cried there anyways.  Flakes fell softly and slowly in a pattern that he didn't understand.  He lay there until the sun was dim on the horizon.  The snow had stopped and he couldn't figure out the pattern.  He considered making an angel but the thought was dismissed.  He got up and felt the wind.  He was cold now.  He headed back the way he came, back to the house with the pool where the only tear was lost.  
He walked into the house, the warmth spread over him, his muscles relaxed.  The door shut behind him and his brother and father returned from snowboarding and skiing.  They were with his mother.  She was crying.  His father had an arm around her and his brother had hands covering his face.  His mother got up, walked over to him, the shivering mess.  She said something about going to look for him soon.  She tried to hug him.  He pushed her away.  Without a word, his brother threw a sweater at him.  Without a word, he put it on.  His father was angry at him, for wandering off in the cold leaving his mother alone.  
They all packed their bags, he drove home with his brother.  His mother and father in the car ahead.  Neither he nor his brother attempted conversation.  He turned on the radio.  His brother turned it off.  They drove the trip in the silence of mourning.  His brother could cry.  He couldn't. 
He stood in line and drank a lot of coffee, he got a lot of hugs from a lot of people he didn't know.  He stood beside the coffin and wanted to cry every time he saw the still man lying there.  But he couldn't. 
He sat in a church pew, surrounded by his family.  His Oma cried, his mother cried, his sister-in-law cried.  They were outside, surrounding a deep hole in the earth, everyone was standing close together to keep the wind out.  People cried.  He didn't.   
He returned to school midway through the week so that he wouldn't fall behind before exams.  He wished the world could stop when people died.  He wished he could still cry.
May He Rest In Peace. 

The Blood is on My Hands

I lose my way
And it's not too long before you point out 
I cannot cry 
Because I know that's weakness in your eyes 
I'm forced to fake, a smile a laugh 
Every day of my life

I know I should be asleep. But something has been bothering me tonight and I don't know what it is.  I know that I will be questioning whether or not I should post this because of the sentence that is coming up next, I'm embarrassed by it.  Today, I cried. tears falling from my eyes, collecting in the hollow of my cheeks and dripping down my lips . All day long I cried.

I broke down today.  And I don't have the answers as to why.  I am sure that you can all guess as to the broad reasons why. I know them.  My girlfriend is dead. My best friend is dead. My knee is still fucked up.  

I don't know if my tears were from sadness though.  Part of me thinks it was from frustration. Anger. 

God knows I was angry today. I didn't hide it.  I refused to go to school. I didn't really face much opposition though, my dad leaves for work before I get up.  But when he got home he found me, lying on my back on the formal dinning room floor.  Cradling my cut up hands.  I don't know how I got there exactly or how I started to throw the china my mom adored.  But there I was, blood covered hands and tear covered cheeks, not from the physical pain but from emotional anguish.  

He just said that I'd better clean my hand.  He swept up the broken pieces.  Whether he was mad or not, I'm not sure, but my mom did love them. I don't think I threw them all. 

I would have told him about the fresh hole in my wall but he has decided not to fix them anymore.  

I've never talked about what I saw after the crash.  I don't know how I am going to describe it, I never have but what happened in that god-damned van might not be something you can feel comfortable reading.  

I only saw two people in the van.  My best friend. And my girlfriend.  

I saw Evan first.  He was gone when I found him.  Dead. His hand was still wrapped around the steering wheel with his elbow bent the wrong way.  The back of his head crammed down at the bottom of the windshield where it met the dashboard.  Blood trickled from the ear facing down, but you could see that it had been coming out of both ears. The track went two ways, one down his face, falling down his ear, collecting along the hollow of his cheek, and dripping down his already crimson lips. And the other, the blood trail was already drying, leaving a dark path down the back of his blonde hair.

His eyes were open. I kept praying for them to blink at any second but they only grew more and more yellow.  

When I fell because of my knee, my eyes were drawn to see the pain.  I only caught a glimpse.  A deep gouge along the entirety of my knee cap.  Blood was seeping from my knee and spreading a pool over the floor of the van, waterfalling over the edge.  The bone was chipped and cracked, parts of it could be seen through the mass amounts of blood.  

The sights I had been seeing were disgusting me so I looked away from what I knew.  

And my eyes fell upon her. Hannah.  Still beautiful though severely broken.  Her back was contorted and bent, following the reconstructed shape of the side of the van.  She was forced into an unnatural arch, trapped by the seat belt that was digging into her side.  Hannah's neck was not holding up the head and her chin lolled against her chest.  The blood was beginning to appear in the corners of her mouth and bubbling out her nose with her raged breathing.  

I remember the smell of blood revolted me just before I passed out.       

Because of you
I am afraid
I watched you die
I heard you cry
Every night in my sleep

   

The 26th

Some days are harder than others.  The twenty sixth of every month is more of a struggle than any other day.  Nine months ago today.
Tears will be shed today in remembrance of all of you.  Me, your parents, siblings, family. Friends.
We miss you. 

So far away from where you are
these miles have torn us worlds apart
and I miss you
yeah, I miss you
and I wish you were here

November 26, 2009

Excitement was in the air that morning, the day was crisp.  The sun was more of an illusion because it let off no heat.  I had picked up Hannah on my way to Josh's house.  We were cruising down the street, the radio blaring and we were belting out the lyrics. She was a morning person, and when her and I were together, so was I.  

The morning air blasted our faces as we stepped out of my truck, she ran inside the house as I grabbed our bags. In the back of my truck sat four bags, one suitcase was mine, the duffel bag and other two suitcases were hers.  When I went to pick her up that morning I went to the door and saw three bags waiting on the porch.  I couldn't help but laugh, we were only going to be gone four days.  

I brought our bags inside and sat on the couch with Hannah and Evan as we waited for Mike and to show up and for Josh to finish closing up the house.  We were going to Josh's cottage for the weekend, his parents and sisters were already up there.  Hannah asked me how comfortable all eight of us would be in the cottage. She had never seen the cottage before. It is probably bigger than my house.

When Mike finally arrived, a half our late as expected, Josh had locked the house up, and I had packed the van, we all piled into it and Josh backed out of his driveway. We were on the road ready for the five hour drive to the cottage.  Little did we know that our trip would be cut short barely two hours down the road.

We were cruising down the road again, We had stopped for a coffee break at Tim Hortons, and without meaning to, pissed off the drivethru lady because we all wanted different coffee, different muffins, different donuts.  In hindsight we probably should have gone into the store to buy our food.  We had stopped for gas, and even though we were off to a slow start our spirits were high.  We sang songs, we made jokes, we laughed at eachother, and we played the alphabet game, Harry Potter style.  Just after we thought of Y-Yaxley, I remember the world slowing pace while my heart beat quickened. Josh's head resting on his shoulder as he peacefully slept in the driver seat, how could he look so peaceful while our worlds were falling apart? The car started to veer left into opposing traffic.  Evan, in the front seat quickly unbuckled and grabbed the steering wheel.  Attempting to pull the van back into its proper lane.  As we were turning, I looked to my left and saw  Hannah, horror overtook her face, drained of all blood, her eyes turned gray with fear and they locked with mine.  Then behind her, I saw the truck approaching from the opposite direction, heading straight for the van, straight for Hannah.  The lights from the truck illuminated her from behind giving her an almost angelic look.  
And then it happened, the collision.  The truck that looked so similar to mine crashed right into the side of the van.  The van crumpled instantaneously. Crushing everyone on that side of the van as well.  Hannah was on that side.  Shards of glass attacked my face for what felt like hours, though I now know it was only a second. I was disoriented, completely confused, I forced the van door open and fell out.  I stood up, brushed my shirt off and stood there in shock for a few seconds.  Without thinking I pulled out my phone and called for 911.  Dazed I talked with the woman on the phone, still not comprehending what had really happened.  A firetruck pulled in and no one was left on the other side of the phone.  When I realized what had happened.  
I tried to run back to the van, to pull Hannah out, to see how everyone else was.  I had just made it to the van and was getting my first glimpse of what I saw, it still haunts my sleep.  My knee let out and I fell into the van,  and then I felt warm liquid roll down my leg, the adrenaline and shock from the crash was wearing off and I could feel my shattered knee.  The pain was unbearable. I blacked out.
When I woke, I found myself on a stretcher, waiting for the next available ambulance. A paramedic looked at me and my first question was about Hannah, he moved aside and there she was on the stretcher beside mine.  She was unconscious, I asked if she'd be alright. The paramedic lied, whether on purpose or not, I'll never really know.  I watched her as she rose and fell with her shallow breaths. The ambulance came and we both were put into the same one. As I was being lifted into the ambulance, I caught a glimpse of two other stretchers, white sheets pulled over their heads. Sirens blaring I grabbed her hand and no matter how hard I gripped her hand I still let her slip through my fingers and into the hands of death itself.
I lived, I remember what happened.  Evan, Josh and Hannah are dead.  Mike is alive and doing well though he was knocked unconscious in the crash.  Doctors are still in awe as to how he lived.  I was to worried for Mike and to busy mourning the dead to bother to wonder what happened to the man in the truck.  Nobody I ask ever seem to have an answer. But that could leave me as the soul person who remembers the crash for what actually happened.  Not as to how the police recreated the scene. Not as to how the reporters retold the story. But as to what tragedy actually occurred on November 26, 2009 at 10:46AM.
Do not regret growing old, many are denied the privilege.