Cry of an Osprey, page 20
“Are you sure? I mean, just on the way here I called Jax’s therapist and said that I didn’t want to be in there and watch him die. He told me to picture a month from now. Would I look back and wish I had, as hard as it would be today? Would I regret not being in there? The answer for me is a resounding yes. So, I’ll ask you the same thing, just to be sure.”
She paused, and I saw her think about it for a minute. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. She shifted in her chair.
“I only want to see my son one more time as he was. I won’t be in there. I can’t be in there.” Her voice bold and loud.
She had given him life; how could she watch someone else take it? “Okay, I totally understand. I’m sorry.” I wasn’t sure if I should hug her, but I did anyway. She stayed seated in the chair, but as my arms wrapped around her, her body collapsed toward me.
I worried what this might do to her. Would she survive? I pushed that thought from my mind. I was emotionally exhausted and couldn’t even imagine losing her too. I just couldn’t.
Not sure of what else to say to Mom, I gave her shoulder a slight squeeze. I wanted to say something, anything to comfort her, but those words just didn’t exist.
Finally, I headed back to Jax’s room, where I found Fredrik, Ben, and Bobby around his bed. Jax had dated Bobby briefly just before he met Fredrik. I think maybe Bobby had found Jax and Fredrik together. I wasn’t sure and never asked.
“I think it’s so sweet that all three of us can be here, by his side together. We all loved him in our own way,” Bobby said.
I stood and watched as three people who should hate each other held hands and cried together. I walked over and wrapped my arms around them. Their faces were blurry through my tears. We didn’t speak, just cried and held one another.
Then my stepsister Wendy bolted into the room. “They’re only going to allow two of us in when they turn off Jax’s machines.”
“What? That’s not fair! How do we choose only two people? Can you speak to anyone?” There was no way that was possible. I started counting—me, Ben, Katie, Mark, Fredrik... I was already at five.
“I know. I tried to explain that to them. I’ll go talk to the doctor again and explain that that just won’t do.”
“Why would they only allow two people?”
“It’s got something to do with the size of the operating room versus all of the team they need in there on standby, should Jax...” Wendy’s voice trailed off. She blinked away tears as she looked over at him. Her nurse voice kicked in. “Should he pass within the two hours, they have to have everyone they need there to perform the operation and get the organs to where they need to be. Anyway, I’m going to go let them know that two is not acceptable.”
With that she rushed out again. Fredrik and Bobby followed.
“You know I’m going to fight for you to be in there, don’t you?” I grabbed Ben’s arm. “You have every right to be there.” I searched his face. “Well, that’s if you want to be in there.” I knew that even if he wanted to be, he’d never ask.
He looked surprised, then confused. “I don’t know what to say. I appreciate you fighting for me, but I’m not sure I should be in there. I don’t want to take someone else’s spot.”
“Ben, do you want to be in there or not? Put all the shit aside. The day after tomorrow, next week, hell, next year, are you going to wish you had been in there?” I demanded.
He bowed his head. “I’m...I’m not sure.”
“Okay, well, let me put it this way then. I know Jax would want you there, and based on what you told me downstairs, I don’t think he’ll go until you are with him.” I knew my eyes were imploring him. “Besides, I need you in there.”
He looked away from me, considering, and then back into my eyes. “If it means that much to you, then yes.”
“Okay, it’s settled then. Thank you.” Now the only question was whether Wendy would have success appealing to the doctor to allow more of us in with Jax.
“And what did you all decide about donation?”
“Oh god, I didn’t tell you? I’m so sorry. We decided that we would go ahead with it but leave it in Jax’s hands.”
He nodded, then asked, “How do you feel about it? Do you think Jax would want that?”
“No, I really don’t think he would, but for me, I need to make some sense out of his death, and this makes me feel better, like his death is for a reason.”
“Funny you say that. I had a dream last night—well, it wasn’t a dream really. I think Jax came to me.”
“Really? What did he say?”
“I was standing on a porch at a small wooden house with a yellow porch light. It was in the middle of a forest, in the middle of nowhere. It was really restricted with guards and barbwire. Just off the porch was a fence I knew I couldn’t cross. Like a chain-link fence. It looked kind of like an airport security place or something. I wondered why I was there, and then I saw Jax walking toward me on the other side of the fence. He looked so good, younger, like when we first met. Anyway, he approached the fence and smiled his huge smile. He then said—and this is where it gets broken—that when it first happened, he was fighting hard to stay here. He didn’t want to go and leave us all behind, but then he got there and was shown why and what he had to do. He said he couldn’t tell me much more, but that once he saw what it was that he had to do there, he knew he had no choice, and that whatever it was involved protecting all of us.”
I was silent for a few moments, taking it all in. “Wait! Do you remember when I mentioned the dream that Larissa had?”
“The one where Jax was partying in Costa Rica?”
“Yes, that one. I have goosebumps.” I looked down at my arm. “I never told you the entire dream. Before that, Larissa saw him sitting on a plane. He was excited, like you would be when heading somewhere on vacation. When I asked her where he was going, she didn’t know. She thought maybe Costa Rica. You said where he was standing looked like airport security, right?”
“Yes, wow, Amelia.”
I was speechless.
Wendy entered Jax’s room looking quite smug. She said that she had got the number up to four.
I looked around the room, full of family and friends, and frowned.
“Um, thank you for your efforts, Wendy, but that’s still not near enough.” I didn’t really want her in there, and I knew Jax would feel that way too. Although I couldn’t say that, and she’d need to be one of the people going in. I mean, how could she not be, when our other stepsister Katie would be? And since she was negotiating for more people, how could we restrict her? Both Jax and I had had a better relationship with Katie.
Shortly after finding that letter in Mom’s closet, we’d also learned about Norma’s marriage to Wendy’s dad dissolving. After Mom divorced Dad, he had invited us to Norma’s―it was his house too by then, though he didn’t tell us that―for dinner. She was having her family over. Upon our arrival, Dad greeted us at the door and stepped outside. I think it was fall. Hers was a small house in a place called Innisfil Beach close to Barrie. The house was grey and white brick with a white door, and I remember the top part of the door had oval glass with an iron floral design.
“I just want to let you two know that Norma’s daughter Wendy calls me Dad. I’m not really sure why, but I didn’t want that to be a surprise.”
A surprise? She calls you Dad? What? I was barely able to call him Dad for his lack of presence at the time. Boy, he must have been around a while for her to feel comfortable enough to do that. Anyway, we went in, and soon it was dinner time.
The dining room had been set up like something out of a magazine. I think the curtains were even pressed. Although they were pretty, it didn’t impress my fourteen-year-old brain too much. I just wanted to leave. Hearing all about their Christmases together on Boxing Day. Boxing Day? Jax and I had looked at each other. See, every year for pretty much our entire lives, our father had told us that he had to work on Boxing Day. He would pack up and leave either Christmas night or Boxing Day morning. We finally knew the real reason. To say the evening was becoming uncomfortable was an understatement. I wanted to crawl out of my skin and slither away. I also felt bad for our mom. She’d pretended to be happy that we were going, but I knew this was hurting her. That alone was enough to make me want to walk out.
Once dinner was ready, Norma set the kitchen table for two and told us, my brother and me, that we would be sitting there. The kitchen wasn’t terribly close to the dining room. In fact, it was down a small hall and a right turn from them. We couldn’t even see the other guests while seated there. Jax and I ate our dinner and talked under our breath about how rude we felt this was—how could our dad allow it? Jax said we might as well eat before we left, so we gulped down our dinner and hightailed it out of there.
“Please, Wendy, you have to get more allowed.”
“Well, who do you want in there? Or who all wants to go? Maybe if I go back with a number, that would help.”
“Okay, there is me, Fredrik, Katie and her husband, I’m assuming you, Tom, Ben...”
“Your mom.” She was counting on her fingers.
“No, actually Mom said she only wants to come in after the tubes have been removed, to see him one last time. So not Mom. But there are nine of us.” I added them up again in my head. “Oh, and Fredrik, do you mind if Ben is there? I really think Jax would want him there.”
“I agree. You know Jax—he’d want everyone in there.” He gave a quick unbridled laugh.
“I want to be in there,” Maxine blurted out of nowhere. “Someone needs to be in there for Fredrik.”
“We will all be there for him,” Wendy said.
“I really want to be in there. I have to be in there,” Maxine insisted.
“Okay, I’ll do my best. So that is ten, then, correct? Maybe I won’t count because I’m a nurse. I’ll push for that.”
Fredrik piped up, “I’ll go with you. Patsy will get the job done. We will have all ten of us in there.” Patsy was the name Jax had given to Fredrik when he would get angry and freak out. A sort of alter ego. Jax always had liked seeing Patsy surface.
Yep, Patsy would get the job done. I had zero doubt. That poor doctor, I thought.
“Well, tell them we will stay out of the way as much as we can. Jax wouldn’t want to be away from us all.” Desperation fuelled my voice. I felt like saying if they wanted his organs, they’d better let us all in.
“I’m on it,” said Fredrik, and he followed Wendy out.
When they returned five minutes later, it was with good news. Not only would the doctor let all ten of us in, but he’d escort my mom in personally. Patsy had done her job.
22
BEN
I
t was three o’clock. Time was running out.
I sat in the empty chair against the wall in Jax’s room holding the roses. And just as a song can play over and over in your head, so too did the meaning of the osprey. Yesterday, after my frustration and confusion about its appearance and meaning, I’d realized that I’d never looked it up. Just before bed I’d grabbed the Animal Speak book and read:
The osprey is a god of communication and messenger of Heaven. Osprey appears to tell us to dive into our emotions opening us up to new relationships, opening the heart spaces and a willingness to take greater risks for the greater good. While you lose your wishes, your needs, your hopes, and your will, you will find out later how much you’ve gained. You will learn how to love yourself, so you can give others the love they need.
In a rare moment now, I was all alone with Jax. It occurred to me, looking over at him, that the osprey had been no coincidence back then. I stood up and placed the roses on the side table. Grabbing his hand, I brought it to my chest right over my heart.
Leaning in, I whispered, “Thank you for showing me not only how to live but to live freely. You gave me the feathers that allowed me to fly and I now have to learn how to soar without you. I’m not sure how. It’s too late for us now, but I do promise to love myself and others the way you did. I love you, Jax, I always will.” Kissing his cheek, I placed his hand back down by his side. When I heard some people approaching from the hall I retreated back to the chair.
I knew some of my close friends were worrying about me. I’d been quiet all day. They’d texted, but I hadn’t replied. I’d told no one about Jax. I just couldn’t find the words. But they deserved something. I looked down at my phone. A group reply text might be best. I typed,
Hey, guys, it’s been a tough week here. Some sad news. Jax Vanbeermen suffered a massive stroke on Sunday past. I’ve been at RVH with him and his family since Mon. There is no hope of recovery and they have decided to take him off life support tonight and donate his organs. Sorry for the text, just been struggling with talking to people. Didn’t realize how much I cared for him still. I’ll be in touch soon, Ben.
Even as I typed the words, I could hardly believe this was happening.
I’d lost this man once, and now I was about to lose him again, and forever.
I felt a sharp pain in my left side. The rhythm of my heart pumped into my ears and the back of my head. I felt panic, until I remembered that I’d had this feeling before. I’d had it when Michelle was taking me to court. I had it every time my mom came over and told me how awful I was to be living with a man and exposing my children to such sin. I had it that time after my Pastor called me out in church in front of everyone.
I’d had it the day I kicked Jax out.
I’d woken that night at 3 a.m. to heart palpitations and what felt like my heart skipping a beat. I’d breathe in, only to have pain cut off my breath.
Although not the smartest thing, I’d rushed myself into Emerg.
“There, is that better?” the hospital doctor had asked, massaging my neck. “Do you drink a lot of caffeine?”
“No, I don’t drink any,” I said.
“Well, the only other thing that could cause this is stress. Are you experiencing a great deal of stress?”
That question hit hard. Where would I begin?
I had had a lot going on at that time. Messy divorce, three little kids, a family that seemed to dictate how my life should go. A sales job that demanded too much from me, and a relationship that my family rudely ignored or ridiculed—there was no in-between.
She continued to massage the left side of my neck. I was hooked up to a monitor, and it showed a steady decline in my heart rate. Finally, it read normal.
“How did you do that?” a nurse asked.
“It’s my little miracle of the night.” The doctor grinned. “Okay, your body is clearly giving you signals that you have way too much stress in your life.” She started removing the monitors. “There is a sensor point in your neck that can influence your heart rate. By massaging that point I was able to lower it; however, if you do not reduce your stress levels, you will eventually have serious health problems, if not a heart attack.” She went on to suggest some counselling and relaxation techniques.
Half an hour later I left the hospital. It was still dark. On my drive home, I pondered on what the doctor had said. Somehow it hadn’t surprised me.
At that time, my career was insurance sales, and I wasn’t a natural salesman. The pressure of making my quotas weighed on me.
Then the divorce. As much as I tried to block all the nagging in my mind, it won. According to my ex, I could do nothing right. Her demands, the accusations, the threats were all a constant worry. I had recently received more papers from her lawyer asking for further ridiculous compensation. In the middle of all that were my three kids. They were unaware of the turmoil surrounding them, but they had daily needs that I had to keep up with too. I would do anything for them. They were my reason for living; they had to be a priority. Along with Jax and his needs as a partner.
Then there was my family, another set of dynamics. Sure, they rallied around me as a single parent, but it came with a cost. They were simply unable to accept me as I was. I was loved as long as I behaved according to their laws, their beliefs. The fact that I had Jax as a partner was too much for them. They just pretended he didn’t exist, which hurt and angered me. And they treated him poorly. They thought I was damaged from a youth sexual experience. They also thought they could pray the gay away.
As I pulled back into my driveway, I turned the car lights off. I didn’t want to wake Jax. Inside, I tiptoed up the stairs, undressed quietly, and snuck back into bed.
“Is everything okay?” he whispered.
“Yeah, I’ll fill you in in the morning.”
He moved closer and put his arm on my chest. It felt so good. Every time I’d get upset, he’d hold me tight. How would he ever understand? We had been together four and a half years. Despite the divorce, the sales job, my nagging family, and the demands of being a single dad, these last four years had been the happiest I’d ever been. We’d made love, travelled, made lots of friends, laughed, cried, gotten angry, laughed again. Eaten countless dinners together with and without the kids. Sleigh rides, wagon rides. Slept in this bed next to each other since Jax moved in.
Of course, it wasn’t always easy. Relationships never are. Jax required a lot of my attention. I was his sole focus, but he was only one of the people I felt responsibility to. I had to find a way to balance it all. In the last while I’d felt myself purposely pulling away from Jax, and lying here now, I knew why; it was suddenly, abundantly clear. I had been preparing both him and me for this moment. Subconsciously I must have known it was inevitable.
Just last month, I’d suggested going to Puerto Vallarta. A last-ditch effort to save us, perhaps? We’d been three times in the four years we’d been together, and each time it had brought us closer. I thought the time away would do us good. We could reconnect and be alone without the stresses of life. We were drifting further and further apart. Jax was going out more. I’d push him away when he was around. I was at a loss as to how to fix it all, but hoped this trip might be the answer. During past trips, the tensions of daily life had melted away.
