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It was as if God reached down and whispered, “Here’s another hole for your heart.”
Kelsey’s heart pounded in her chest. There was a sense in her that this was a formative moment. That after this moment in time, her life would shift, whether or not she wanted it to.
There had been very few moments in Kelsey’s life where she felt truly distraught. She knew she was fortunate, she really did. These moments of anguish would often arise when her family had deteriorated to the point that it seemed there was no return. It often felt like a house of cards about to blow over. However they were always able to rebuild—no matter how destructed everything appeared to be.
The tides of life would ebb and flow, sometimes reaching her neck, threatening to pull her under, but they always eventually receded enough so that she could see her feet again. This time felt different though. She felt a lump grow in her throat as the water rose and rose, slowly swallowing her breath. Her chest got tight and suddenly she could not see the world as it was before, above the surface. The water created a sense of drowning with no chance of air, obstructing her vision to the point she could only see this underwater world that was suffocating her.
The digital clock, the one she had looked to every night as a little girl falling asleep in bed with her parents, read 8:52 pm. It was a Thursday night, her favorite day of the week. Thursdays had always been the day where Kelsey felt the most hope and excitement for the freedom that was the weekend.
She hadn’t been outside the confines of the four corners she called home in almost two days. She sat across from her mother who was distracted at the moment, while she held the hand of her father. His body had grown cold. He had been asleep all day as she sat by him, like a loyal pup to his owner. Right now was different though. For the first time that day his hands gripped onto her and his eyes were opened.
He was in distress. That was why she was there. She wasn’t even supposed to be there. She had bought tickets to a live podcast show months ago that was happening that very night. Ironic for her, because Kelsey didn’t go to many shows, let alone buy tickets for them. Although she had been looking forward to it for months, nothing could be further from her mind in these moments.
The clock read 8:52. Kelsey made sure to look at it because she knew it was time. She could feel it. She wanted to know exactly when it was over, like somehow anchoring herself to that time would allow her to never forget how it felt. A kind of tattoo in the mind.
In a way she was relieved—it had been almost unbearable to see this man, the first man she had ever known, lie weak in bed with no control over his life. To see his distended stomach grow, but his muscles wane, was too much to witness in someone who had lived such a beautiful life. But the reality of the time and place hit her harder than she could have ever imagined—similar, she thought, to how a person likely does not really know what it would feel like to be shot in the chest unless it actually happened. One can imagine it, but no one can truly understand unbearable pain until it actually happens. This is what death is like.
Peter was in distress, but after a few moments of holding Kelsey’s hand he seized. His body, which had been restless seconds before, was no longer moving. His neck got stiff and his eyes wide. In fact, his eyes got so wide, Kelsey’s first thought was that this is what it looks like when someone is possessed. It actually frightened her, and through her tears she pleaded to her mom to provide some sort of comfort, but deep down she knew comfort was no longer an option.
Kelsey’s second thought was that this was the last time she would look into her father’s eyes.
She couldn’t take it. Time stood still as she watched the last moments of her father’s life unfold. It was as if there was the invisible hand of God reaching down and slowly pulling the thread from Peter’s body that gave him life. She could practically see this thread of life leave his body, and she couldn’t believe that none of her brothers were witnessing this. How could she possibly be the only one of Peter’s children to witness these last moments? It was too much of a burden to shoulder.
The moment life was done leaving his body, Kelsey could tell. The emaciated and malnourished body that lay in her parent’s bed was no longer her father. Her father was finally free, free from the pain of life both physically and emotionally.
Death is simple, grief is not. Grief cannot accurately be described as sadness. Grief is everything. Grief is being thankful they were there the whole time. Grief is relief that they are no longer in pain. Grief is relief they are no longer causing any pain. Grief is happiness about a life well lived. Grief is a daughter being crushed by the weight of the influx of beautiful memories of her father in their favorite moments. Grief is anger that they made it so hard to love them in the end. Grief is acknowledging the freedom in death. But in that freedom there is a price—the price that all loved ones must pay to those they have lost for the rest of their days—a permanent hole in their heart.
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