Briefcase on the Kitchen Table

On December 10th Avery received a call from one of his best friends that one of his good college buddies Chris had passed away suddenly from complications with leukemia. We were both sad and shocked by Chris’s sudden death; he had beaten the cancer itself nearly a year earlier but, with an immune system still compromised by a bone marrow transplant and it’s intricacies, had suddenly contracted a fungal infection. Being only 25 years old Avery and I still have the luxury of pretending, most of the time, that we are invincible so the death of a college friend was especially jarring.

We had been planning on heading home for the holidays on Monday but when we found out Chris’s wake and service were going to be in Chicago starting Friday we spent the next two days rushing to get everything ready so we could join our friends to say goodbye. Avery was still finishing up some research and I still needed to finish my seminar paper but we agreed we would just have to find time on the car ride or in Chicago to complete our tasks.

Friday morning came, Ave and I packed up the car, and we were off to Chicago. We were about halfway to Chicago when I received a phone call from Abby, my sister-in-law. She said that Avery’s Uncle Mark had been in an accident and had run his truck into the side of a building. Ave and I were both pretty surprised; Mark is a professional semi-truck driver and a VERY careful operator on the roads. Abby said Mark seemed to be okay; he was being taken to the hospital but was conscious and griping at the nurses which we took as a good sign. I asked Abby if we should head towards Fort Wayne instead of Chicago. All things considered it looked like Mark was going to be okay so she said she would call if anything changed but for the time being we were going where we needed to be.

Avery and I rolled into Chicago and into the arms of friends. We all got ready for the wake and spent the next few hours swapping old stories about Chris, meeting his family, and trying to start saying goodbye. After the wake we were all hungry and decided to go to a nearby burger joint for some grub. When we were headed in to the restaurant Avery got a call from his family; he paced outside to talk to them and I waited just inside the door while the rest of the group got seated. I was watching my husband, watching for any sign of what was going on at the other end of the phone line. Then I saw a rare thing when it comes to Ave; he wiped a tear away from his eye. I immediately went to his side and waited to hear what was going on. He got off the phone and, after a couple of minutes, was able to tell me that Mark was having complications. The doctors figured out that the accident had been caused when Mark had a heart attack while driving. He was still actively having issues with his heart. They wanted to give him blood thinners but couldn’t because he had lacerated his liver in the accident. They couldn’t operate on his liver though without putting too much stress on his heart.

Avery looked like a man trying to grasp the wind. He didn’t know what to do; stay and say goodbye to his friend or go home immediately in case things went badly. We talked for a couple of minutes and agreed he needed to eat then we would head home. We ate quickly and then our wonderful friend Martin drove us back to his house to get our car; Martin didn’t ask any questions. His friends said they needed something and he led the way to the car. On the way to Martin’s house Avery got another call; Mark had flatlined, they were doing heart compressions to try and get him back. Ave hung up the phone and I just heard sobs. We got to Martin’s, loaded the car in less than five minutes, and hit the road. The situation was further complicated by the fact that we were driving directly into a winter storm warning. Avery got another call; Mark was alive and being taken into emergency surgery.

And then we drove. In silence as the snow streamed down. Holding hands. Every once and a while Ave’s phone would ring: Mark was out of surgery. Ring: the doctors found two total blockages, put in a pacemaker and a balloon but it didn’t look good. Ring: the doctors predicted Mark wouldn’t make it through the hour. Ring: where were we, how were the roads.

I drove as fast as I could on the nearly unnavigable roads. I dropped Avery at the front door of the hospital and went to park the car. I clicked into the hospital, still in my dress clothes and heels from the wake. It was passed eleven pm and the only person around was the receptionist. I gave her my name and she told me to go up to floor three. I road the elevator up and asked at the nurses station what direction the room was. I turned right down a hallway and through a set of double doors and I saw Avery walking towards me crying like I haven’t seen him cry before. Mark had died ten minutes earlier.

We didn’t make it in time.

We hung around the hospital for the next hour making phone calls, signing forms, avoiding the walk out of the hospital door. As anyone knows who has taken that walk before, walking out of the hospital after someone has died in a lot of way makes it real, final, no way to go back in and undo what happened in that building.

Avery was sad, exhausted, and fragile. This had been the longest day; starting in St. Louis, driving to Chicago for a funeral, then racing the clock through the snow to Fort Wayne. I was feeling a bit lost. This was far and away the worst day we had experienced together since we had been married. We had had other bad days; when my Aunt Marcia died (pre-marriage), when my grandmother died last September, when my Aunt June died this summer, when the car was stolen, when Ave’s dad had a stroke last year. None of them had felt like this though; so out of control, so torn, so much like we weren’t ever where we needed to be when we needed to be there. I was also having massive doubts about myself as a wife; I didn’t know now to make Ave feel better about Chris, about Mark, about not getting the closure he needed for his friend because we were missing the funeral, or how to begin to process the sudden death of his very close uncle. I had read the bridal magazines. Where was this in the HOW TO column?

Since then we have had a few days to start to dig our way out. We are spending time with family and have been calling friends in Chicago to find out how the service went. The seminar paper still sits in my backpack, undone.

I also learned how to be a good wife during the worst times; I have done exactly what I normally do. I have made food, given Ave lots of kisses and snuggles, and have held his hand while we sit in tender silence. I am sure we might have worse days than we did two days ago, days that feel even more hopeless and out of control. I am just hoping we don’t have one for a long time.