Page 8 of Better as It

Benji went back for them.

He shouldn’t have. If he would have stayed in place and waited on the ambulance he would be here with me.

The woman screamed as the car came up too fast, hydroplaned right where she did, but the drunk driver didn’t even try to slow down or react. He slammed into her car throwing Benji eight feet into the air before landing in the middle of the road.

His spine shattered, hips just as bad, he blacked out. When emergency services arrived, he had a pulse, it was weak. Internal bleeding was happening without anyone knowing, but they assumed it, trying to stabilize him on the backboard to get in the ambulance. Then they lost him. For twenty minutes, they performed CPR. With a shock, he was brought back to life.

Surgery to stop the bleeding began before me or his mother could even get to the hospital. We didn’t know he had coded until after they got the bleed under control by removing his spleen. It was too late.

The damage already done with the lack of oxygen to his brain, at least that’s what they say. He has some brain waves, but not enough to sustain him, the doctors say. Everything is out of control. It’s all whatthey say,the doctors, nurses. And I don’t know what to think. I’m not in the medical profession. How can I have the answers? But how can they know without a doubt he won’t pull through? Do they not believe in miracles? I don’t know what to think. I don’t want to give up hope. After his mom kicked me out of the room and banned me from any decisions or being informed of anything I am left to ride the rollercoaster sheput us on. It’s been the hardest five days of my life hoping for a miracle. This morning, though, his mom having the authority, had the machines removed. He wasn’t strong enough yet to make it on his own. Why couldn’t she give him just a little more time? Give us some days to see if there is an improvement, or make peace with saying goodbye.

With a fight and some intervention (most likely of the intimidating variety) by my dad, his mom allowed me back in the room after the machines were unhooked. As I laid in the hospital bed beside him, he took his very last breath. His heart stopped and I shattered in a million pieces all over again.

He’s gone.

His mom calls him a saint.

The town calls him a hero.

I simply call him: mine.

My Benji.

The awkward one. The goober who always forgot where he left his keys. The one who couldn’t fold laundry to save his life, but damn if he didn’t try. The man who made me believe I could be loved in the simple ways. The man who taught me there is a life outside of the Hellions, even if it wasn’t the life I want to live. The man without chaos. He balanced me.

I stretch out on the floor, Skye presses close against me. The floor is cold under me, but I don’t move. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to face reality. If I move, it means time is passing. That is the cruel thing about loss. Every second gone is another moment since the last time he kissed me.

It’s more space between the last time I heard him say,“Dia, I love you, always.”How he always said it, ending in always. From the first time to the last, he never stopped with a simple I love you, it was his thing to remind me it would be for always.

Except always isn’t long enough this time.

The level of heartache I feel for him is indescribable. Is it easier when it’s expected? I don’t know. Grief is all consuming no matter how it comes about. I don’t see this ever easing up. My life is once again forever changed losing love.

He is a hole in my chest. An ache I don’t know how to heal. There is a new silence. One I can’t bear.

Still, I breathe.

Because I have to.

Because he would want me to.

Because everyone expects me to.

This very moment though, I can’t see a future where I feel like me ever again. I want him back. Only I can’t have him.

Forever he will be this piece of me and I will never be whole again.

THREE

TOON

"The bear's strength lies not in its muscles, but in its indomitable spirit." — Unknown

Being backin Haywood’s Landing feels like wearing boots two sizes too small. Everything is familiar, but nothing fits quite right.

The roads haven’t changed. Same soft spots, potholes, gas stations. Even the way the air smells, pine with a faint hint of the salt from the beach not far away. As the tide rolls in and out, the air will change, but it always goes back to the same.

I’m not the same though.

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