by Justin Page

Created on: August 26, 2010

Once again it happened on my watch.

This is no novel experience, rather in danger of becoming common place.

This time the signs were clearer than before.

How could I let this happen again?

I cannot always be there.

It's crazy how a simple statement can irrevocably alter reality.

Had I not told myself this, things would be different.

In the middle of the night, nobody answers the phone?

How unusual?

My phone didn't ring, I would have came.

I should have been there anyway.

A message of pure hatred?  A message of dissolution.

That wasn't you.  I came when I knew.  I knew too late.

Once again I am first, first to look death in the face.

Once again, I am that guy.

Death was there before I came, and long since left.

She is there with me, my niece is with me.

We see this together, we watch it unfold.

Now it is just her, I, and his vessel.

In the room it is only us.

He's gone, but I don't see it, perhaps I refuse to.

The poison has done the trick.

I find it and tuck a piece away for myself, not realizing yet what has happened.

It is dangerous, it sits in my hand.  The devil sits in my hand.

It is healing.

I have met him, and without understanding his allure, I am drawn to him. 

She tells me to wake my brother.

She doesn't want to leave unless I wake him.

He is her uncle.

Surely he is sleeping, I can almost see him breathing.

She doesn't see it.

I'm sure that I see it, for sure he is breathing. 

How odd that I think this.  Really I knew in my heart before I arrived.

I knew last night, I knew I should have been there.

The dogs are acting funny, a mirror is broken.

In the mirror I see broken images, broken people.

They are broken reflections of us, before we know we are broke.

He's cold, he won't wake, he's blue in the face.

She lets out a shrill scream as I make the realization.

Michael wake up, Wake the !@#$ up now.

Now she is that girl.

She fleas, I am all alone now, facing death once again.

Looking into those cold silent eyes of the enemy.

Eyes without answers, eyes without remorse.

Now I'm on the phone, I am the guy on the phone.

Turn him over, go downstairs and get the address.

I can't do everything at once!

Do chest compressions. 

I already know how, I need to put the phone down!

No don't do that until they are there.

For God's sake, I only have two hands!

One push and in his final exhalation I hear the tone of his voice for the last time.

I will never hear this beautiful tone again.

I continue with compressions, mouth to mouth.

Fifteen compressions, two breaths.

Over and over again, I am working on a dead body.

Even knowing this I must try, I have to.

Help arrives, but cannot help.

They can only state the obvious.

Death has come and gone, his vessel remains on his bed.

Our family is here now.

For the next hour or so I watch them come in and out.

My brother lays there.  My mind races.

Still I can almost see his chest rise, is that a pulse I feel?

Am I going crazy?  Clearly death has rested on him.

This is not madness but denial and wishful thinking.

Through the abundance of grief I must ask:

Is this what you wanted?

Is this your atonement for your transgression?

I never hated you for anything.

Now you've done it, now you broke my scarred heart in two.

This I don't show, almost don't feel.

I stay strong for them, for us.

I give hugs, pat backs, and speak silver linings into existence.

Yes he is dead, however hope is very much alive.

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