Say Good-bye

I know he’s watching me stand alone in this empty room. I refuse to hide the tears anymore; this is hell. I replay that day over and over again in my mind; the pain is etched across my heart. Stephen stands quietly in the door; I don’t think he knows what to do. I hear him sigh and clear his throat, “Honey, we have to go, the moving truck is loaded.” I turn to face him, the man I love. "I've got his trunk all packed. I've had it packed for a week now,” my words are choked by the lump in my throat.
I turn to face the window again; I can’t bear to leave this room. If I leave, what happens to the memories? I don’t want to forget them. Of course there is one memory I will never forget.

It replays again in my head. Stephen and I settle on to the couch to watch a movie. Dylan calls, he needs a ride home. It’s my turn to go get him. I get in the car and meet him at his friends place. I watch as he waves bye to his friends, as he throws his backpack over his shoulder and zips up his sweater I notice a couple of holes. It’s his favorite sweater, simple and black with his school name written across the front. I make a mental note to buy a new one for him for Christmas. As he gets in the car I smile and kiss his cheek. I ask if he was able to get some homework done. I know I never have to worry, he’s a smart kid and enjoys school - he gets that from me. I wait for him to buckle up. As he rolls down the window I can smell the dampness in the air, a storm is coming. I look up to the sky and see no stars; too many clouds have blocked their light. The wind picks up and the leaves in the trees begin to blow. In the 20 minute drive home, I ask Dylan about school and his day. He tells me that his best friend and girlfriend just broke up, and his new math teacher is really nice, but challenges the class a lot. As he’s talking I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don’t like those feelings, especially when my son is around. I slow down and drive with a little more caution. I come to a stop at a red light, a very busy intersection. We wait as our light turn’s green I check both ways but can’t see anything on the right, a hill blocks my view. As I proceed I become blinded by a white light on my right. Dylan doesn’t even have time to react. The impact was sudden, our airbags deploy. It all happens in an instant, yet in my mind it plays in slow motion.

“Dylan are you okay?” I look over at him. Blood covers the side of his head. He looks at me and tries to speak “Mom?” It comes out in a whisper. As he coughs I can see blood. How could this happen? I hear voices, people asking if we’re okay. I scream for help. I can’t get out of the car. We’re pinned between a pole and the other car. I have to help my son. I undo my seatbelt. I can feel pain when I move, maybe a rib or two broken. My son needs me. “Hang in there Dylan!”
“Mom, I hurt”. Tears fill his eyes.
“Tell me where it hurts baby.”
“Everywhere.” I watch him cough, more blood.
I scream for them to get help right away. I hear sirens in the background, there not going to make it in time. I run my hands over his body, trying to assess where he might be injured. I take off my coat and use it to stop the bleeding at his head. The sirens are too far away, there not going to make it. I don’t know how to save my son. His breathing is shallow and ragged. Can no one help us?
“Mom, I don’t want to die”.
“You’re not going to die. I’m not letting you go. Stay with me Dylan.”

Stephen clears his throat again. I’ve done it again, another flash back. It’s time to go, to say good-bye.

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