The Darkest Night
It was dinner time, and Dad was late. This wasn’t a new occurrence. Things that needed his attention always popped up on the farm, so we didn’t think anything of it. But then, hunger and restlessness began to settle in, and I started to wonder.
My book wasn’t keeping me entertained anymore, and I moved to the kitchen window to see if I could find out what was going on. The window faced the farm that was a quarter mile away. The view from that window was not one that I was prepared to see that night, as all I could see were the flashing lights of an ambulance.
Panic set in, and I yelled to Mom that we had to go find out what was going on.
We hopped in the truck and got to the farm in record time. There was a sinking feeling in my heart, and I knew that something was very wrong. As we tore into the farmyard and pulled up next to the ambulance, I looked over to the barns and saw Dad lying on the ground.
My heart dropped, and a deep knowing came into my soul. I turned to Mom and saw the worry on her face, but I already knew that he was dead. I got out of the truck, and in a fog, ran toward the barn where he was lying. I could see the paleness of his skin, and a dark bruise forming on his head where he had hit it on the way down.
It was at that moment that my cousin realized what was happening, and he grabbed me and yanked me away. Trying to protect me, as I was screaming in emotional pain and agony, he kept telling me that it was all going to be okay.
But I knew that everything in my life had changed.
The next few hours were a blur, as everyone went into autopilot. Mom went in the ambulance to the hospital, and my cousin and I followed in the truck. The whole way there I kept repeating the words, he’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. I felt as if my world had come crashing down around me and everything I once knew to be true was a lie.
Arriving at the hospital, it felt as though everything was in slow motion. Mom walked toward me, seemingly in a fog, telling me to sit down as she had something to tell me. I sat quietly and listened as she told me what I already knew. As the words fell into my ears and onto my heart, I replied that I knew. That I had already said goodbye.
She asked me if I wanted to see his body, and at that time, I made a decision. It was an unconscious decision that would take twenty years to unravel. I decided that I didn’t want to see him, using the excuse that I’d rather remember him as he was—full of life.
I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his cold, dead body lying in a hospital bed.
What I didn’t realize at the time was the effect this choice would have on my psyche as I got older. It was as if I decided that he didn’t die; he just went away and never came back.
There were many subconscious decisions made at that moment. I created beliefs in my mind that I was abandoned, and that I would always be left behind. I decided that hard work would kill a person. I made up my mind that God was a horrific and terrible thing. I concluded that life was really not worth living. I began to shut down.
I didn’t cry.
I closed off my heart and started shutting everyone out.
I pretended that nothing happened, and, in fact, the very next day, went to school. This was the beginning of my journey into the depths of hell, and forgetting that life is meant to be felt. There were so many deep emotions running through my body that I didn’t know how to navigate them, so I pretended like they weren’t there. I separated my mind from my body and shut down any connection I may have had with the Universe. If the Universe was cruel enough to destroy my life, then I wanted nothing to do with it.
This moment in the fabric of my lifeline was pivotal and set me up for the next 20-year journey to rediscover what it means to live life to its fullest, to be in flow with life, and to fully and completely embrace all of the pieces. It would be several years before I ever believed it was worth trying again, and I went down the rabbit hole of poor decisions and debauchery.