Chapter 40
Jace
While I tend to hurt firefighters from minor cuts to deep lacerations, the team works tirelessly putting out spot fires while the haze continues to choke us out, and the heat radiates from the ground.
Cleaning up will be a job all on its own; cleaning this wreckage will take days, and right now, my body is ready to crash.
Chief hollers to Hayden, and he looks at me, nodding for me to follow. We hustle over to the fire truck. “Yes, Sir.” Hayden stands exhausted, catching his breath.
The Chief looks at Hayden, then back at me.
Hayden chimes in, “He can stay, anything you have to say, he can be here for, what is it?” I can tell by the shift in Hayden’s voice that he is on edge; each word is laced with worry.
He drops his head before reaching for Hayden's shoulder, and I watch in real time as Hayden's shoulders drop; he slowly raises his hand, removing his helmet.
“I just received a call. I’m sorry, son, your father has passed away.”
Hayden’s chin trembles, he rolls his shoulders back, and his words come out shaky, “May I be excused, Sir?” He nods his head at both of us.
Hayden runs to the truck, where I demand he ride in the passenger side. Emotions are high; there is no way I am letting him drive.
Driving to the hospital, there are no words, only sounds.
The sound of his muffled cries, the way his body shakes with each fallen tear, is heavy.
The weight of his sadness overwhelms any words I could say.
At this moment, there is nothing to say.
So instead, I sit with him, in this silence that is thick with grief and heartbreak.
We sit in the thick of it, feeling every intense emotion as it radiates from him like the rays of the sun shooting down with a vengeance, only this time it is not the sun.
It’s rays of anguish shooting daggers into each memory, a yearning that will never be met.
In this moment, the quiet has never been so loud, the sadness has never been so somber, and my best friend has never been so broken.
Arriving at the hospital, I catch the smell of disinfectant.
The bright overhead lighting makes me squint as my eyes adjust from the night's darkness to the stark white walls.
I talk to the front desk while Hayden paces back and forth, his bunker gear pants rubbing together with each step.
“Mr. Wilder?” Hayden turns around, finding the young nurse who walks out behind the large grey double doors.
Hayden says nothing. “This is him.” I stand next to Hayden, being his voice when he has lost his own.
She looks to Hayden, “Sir, you can come this way, and he can come if you would like. There are two women in the chapel waiting for you both.” Lilla. We head down the hall, where the checkered floors bounce the light off, and the white walls turn narrow.
We stop at a small room, where the nurse and Mr. Wilder’s doctor, whom we are now well acquainted with, begin to tell him what happened after Hayden asked me to stay.
Starting with the time of death, how he died, and what happens now.
Once they fill us in, they lead us to the Chapel, where Haley and Lilla sit in a tight hug in the first pew.
I clear my throat, making them both turn in our direction.
Both girls jump up and run into our arms. I wrap my arms around Lilla, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t there.
I’m so sorry I didn’t check my phone. It was a crazy night.
” I whisper into her ear so only she can hear.
She squeezes me tightly, holding me up, allowing me to have this moment.
Looking over at Hayden, he stands slumped, head down, arms at his sides, while Haley holds him tightly, her small arms barely reaching around him.
I look at Haley, who looks exhausted more so than we are, and we’re beat.
Her eyes are swollen and red, her skin is blotchy, and her chin trembles.
I reach for her hand, releasing Lilla, and give her a soft smile.
Pulling Haley in, Hayden doesn’t move from his statue state. “You two go get some coffee and some food. Give me a minute. He’ll come back.” I give her my wallet and look at Lilla, who takes her hand. I give Lilla a quick kiss, then I send them on their way.
The chapel is mute, the only sound is our breathing.
I clear my throat, because what do you say to a person whose ground just fell out beneath them?
How do you save them when they are falling faster than you can reach them?
“Hay.” His eyes stare at the front of the room, “Look at me, Hayden.” His eyes begin to water, “Now.” His dark water-teared eyes find mine, and the moment they lock with mine, the dam breaks, tears free-fall like rivers down his face.
His chest begins to puff, as his shoulders shake up and down, and a gut-wrenching sob escapes.
With each tear, the shaking intensifies, and his breath becomes audible.
“Let it out, man. It’s just you and me.” His chin quivers as his fists form into balls, as he tries to smother the torment.
“I should have been there.” His voice is deep, fueled by loathing.
“He died alone, just like my mother–” He chokes on his words.
“Both my parents were out of reach when they died…I couldn't save either of them…” Misery casts a shadow over his features as his eyes drop; defeat wraps him like a warm blanket. There is nothing I can say to comfort him; there are no words that can bring him back, no sense of pre-warning that tonight would be the night. His cries become silent sobs. The emotional grief overwhelms him, stealing his voice, as he shakes, his breath releasing rapidly, as tears cascade down his cheeks onto my shoulder. That’s when I feel it.
His heart is physically breaking. His knees weaken as his once-strong body leans into mine, silently begging to be held up, to be saved from this intense torture.
Loss is more than losing someone. Loss is losing someone and losing a part of yourself.
It’s carrying guilt even when it isn’t valid; in our minds, it rings true.
It’s the unknowns and the memories that slowly eat us alive.
It’s the "I should have done this" or "could have done that" scrutiny that makes us think we could have done more. That is where Hayden is right now; his mind is telling him all the things he should have done. Next will come the wishes that he hoped would come true once upon a time. But death isn’t a fairy tale, and unlike a fairy tale, there is no magic to bring him back, no pause in time, and no happily ever after.
In this room now, there is only complete heartbreak, and a shattered soul who only wanted to save his father.
Not saving in the sense of stopping him from dying, we have already established that this is no Disney movie.
No, he wanted to save him, in the sense of holding him and telling him he loved him one last time, but more importantly, Hayden needed to be told everything would be alright; he needed reassurance that he could make it through this.
He wanted to be there to bring him peace when he took his last breath, or so he thinks.
You can prepare for someone to die, you can know it’s coming, but it doesn’t lessen the blow. It doesn’t take away the heartbreak; it intensifies the memories, making them burn like acid, all the plans you had and the hopes you held on to vanish into thin air.
The last time is never supposed to be the last time.
The last smile. Last conversation, last hug, kiss, wave.
Because the truth is, if you love someone, there is no right time, no magic number, or moment that deems right. The truth is, time is never long enough.
Love makes us believe in forever, but that simply can not be.
Love is eternal, but the time we have to give and share love is not.
Life runs out, but love doesn't.
In this moment, a life has run out, and I’m hoping as hell Hayden holds onto the love.
Today, we put Mr.Wilder to rest. The clouds hang low, hiding the sun, creating an atmosphere much like how we feel.
There is no joy in our hearts or warmth in our smiles; there is only sadness that lingers with each hug and a dull ache that follows every ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ comment, none of us have a response to, because we’re sorry, too.
I stand in front next to Hayden. While Lilla and Haley sit in the second row directly behind us.
Hayden’s eyes scan the golden oak casket, lingering on the flowers that sat atop.
I can’t tell if he is admiring the beauty or hating the way they live, just as I hate the grass beneath for being too green, too lively.
How the trees stand tall with emerald leaves hanging and flowing in the soft wind, their trunks strong and sturdy, having lived for hundreds of years.
“It’s as if the beauty of nature is mocking the dead. ” My words fall without permission.
Hayden turns to me with hurt in his eyes. “Took the thought right from me.”
An older woman strolls over with her cane and stands in front of Hayden.
“Hello, sweetheart.” She looks at the casket, following Hayden’s gaze.
“Nature isn’t mocking my dear, it is rejoicing.
Welcoming home this wonderful man.” She wobbles slowly down the path as she finds her seat.
Hayden and I say nothing because we simply disagree. His home is here, with us.
“Family and friends, we are gathered here today…” His words fade as my mind jumps through memories of every moment I got to spend with Mr. Wilder.
“Dude, Hayden, get over here!?” Hayden jumps from the couch, running down the hallway.
We both stick our heads around the door frame to Mr. Wilder’s room.
“He’s singing. In the shower.” Hayden laughs as we both sit and listen to his father sing.
When his dad steps out, he sees us both with our heads poking from around the corner.