I Said Yes

The Last Time I touched Him - Closure?

I had gone outside to have a quick smoke. Suddenly my nerves were shattered, and I really questioned if I wanted to go through with it…especially after hearing Mr. Hughes’ description. When the smoke was done, I went back in the service entrance and told him I was ready.

Mr. Hughes took me down a long hallway and then down an elevator to the basement. We exited the elevator and were in the middle of what did, in fact, remind me of an operating room. There…on my left side, was a table with a body, covered with a sheet, laying on it. The very first thing I noticed was blood that seeped through several areas of the sheet. He wasn’t kidding about the smell and the temperature. I noticed both things immediately and he handed me a surgical mask in case I wanted it.

I stood and stared at the table for a few minutes. Mr. Hughes had walked to the opposite corner of the room and sat in a chair at a desk. He patted my shoulder before he moved away, and I knew he was there if I needed him.

So here I was…pretty much all alone…in a cold, smelly room with Michael. This would be the last opportunity I would have to be with him alone. I had asked Mr. Hughes if I could remove the sheet and he said yes, if that was something I wanted to do. I move over to Michael and moved the sheet a little, at the place where I thought his right hand would be. I held it and it was very cold and stiff to the touch. There was a little flexibility but not much. I pulled his hand up to the side of my face and just held it there for a minute…I don’t know why but I found some comfort in doing this…it reminded me when he would grab both sides of my head to kiss me. I put him arm back down on the table and, without any hesitation, I grabbed the sheet from his forehead area and pulled it down to his chest.

Nobody was kidding when they said this was something I would never want to see… something no one would ever want to experience. I immediately thought of Diane and how she had made the identification…how horrible it must have been for her to see him like this. I did feel a little bit queasy for a minute, but it passed, and I put my hand on his chest. He was shirtless and there was a lot of splatter on his chest. When I forced myself to look closer there were some very curious bruises near the top of his rib cage. Mr. Hughes noticed that I was staring and, from across the room, he told me that the bruising was “result of the CPR attempts” made by the paramedics. He said it was very, very normal. I really had to force myself to look upwards past his chest, but I did and, for all intents and purposes, it was exactly the sight one would imagine when someone puts a gun to their head and pulls the trigger. Save the graphic details, I would quickly surmise that it should have been instant and immediate…but I knew that, based on what Chris was told and shared with me…it was not and, for that, I was horrified. My only hope at that point was that he was unconscious and did not feel the pain that it must have caused or he was in…I hoped to whatever God or higher power there was that it was the case…that he stopped suffering the minute he pulled the trigger and not a second longer…I could not bear to think that he was at all conscious the few minutes after…waiting for someone…or something to take him…to the present day…to even recount it in writing…that is still, after all this time, my hope for him.

I moved up towards his forehead and ran a finger down alongside his face…I was able to look at him…able to see him, even with the damage…I didn’t feel sick or queasy nor sweaty nor like I was gonna faint. What I did feel was despair…loss…shock…and sadness…not even anger…a lot of questions in my head, and my heart hurt…physically…but I wasn’t angry…I was surprised…but not angry. I knew that this would likely be the last moment I would have alone with him…well so to speak…but it would be the last intimate moment…of all of our moments…all of our alone time…this would be the most raw and intimate of any.

I leaned in right next to his ear as I looked at his closed eyes…I found myself talking as if he and I were having a normal conversation…

“I won’t pretend that I know what to say to you now…I hope you are someplace where you can hear me…You need to know that, even to this day, I love you with all of my heart and soul. You need to know that it never stopped…that is why I let you go…because I love you so much…I feel like I am grieving all over again…I had to do that when I left…I know you did too…You are my person and I don’t know what I am going to do…I thought I knew how to live without you…I haven’t done that very well…and I did not want to be good at that…you are my person…do you know that? Did you ever know that? Did I make you understand that? I want to be strong right now but I need you here to do that…that’s what you did for me…you made me strong…you are my person and I need you back here now! Please, Michael, come back to me…sit up and tell me this is all a horrible nightmare”

I think I could have gone for hours talking to him. He used to tell me that my sentences were to long…which was code for I talked too much…and as I kissed his forehead and ran my hand along his face one last time…I chuckled…he was right about that. I just heard myself do it…

It was hard to leave the room…I knew that, for all intents and purposes, it would be the last private moment with him, and I didn’t want it to end. For a split second another wave of emotion came over me and, as quickly as it flashed, it went away and I was, well, resigned (I had guessed) to dealing with what was to come…and resigned to having to deal with things without Michael. In hind-sight, the cliché about saying things…all the things you should say when your person is still around…that is legit…that is something everyone should do…don’t wait until…

I thanked Mr. Hughes for allowing me to come in, that he was most gracious in doing so…and then I headed for the service entrance and to the parking lot. Chris was leaning against the car, on his phone, when he saw me come out. He told whomever it was that he would call them back and he hung up. Once I got to the car, I pulled out my pack of smokes, but my hands were too shaky, and I dropped them. As I leaned over to pick them up, I lost it…went down on one knee and lost all composure. Chris got out of the care and came around to my side…bent down and put his arms around me, and I sobbed for, what seemed like, days. I couldn’t stop it…it was uncontrollable…and no matter what Chris said or did…I was inconsolable. I believe now that the enormity of the situation…the fact that I forced myself to go and see Michael…the utter despair at having lost him and the finality that, seeing him, forced me to acknowledge…all contributed to this particular melt-down. It certainly wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last of the melt-downs but it was significant for me.

When I gained some sense of composure I stood back up and, while still in the embrace, Chris asked me if I was ok and ready to get out of there…to which I nodded yes. 10 Minutes later I found us at the dive bar…bellied up…with beer, a cocktail, and 2 shots sitting in front of us.

I think I was still in a bit of a fog after the experience at the funeral home. Chris was doing his best to divert my attention…talking football…my work…just about anything but the elephant in the room. I, in my common-sense mode, realized he must be hurting bad as well. Michael did not have a better friend on this earth than Chris. Sure, he had amazing relationships with people in his circle…Nolan…Mama Su…and others for sure…but Chris was his go-to guy…for everything. I felt somewhat embarrassed that I hadn’t even bothered to ask him how he was, so I did. He indicated that he didn’t think he had processed any of it yet…he was angry at Michael and that anger seemed to be controlling his being right then…and he was flat out pissed at Kanae…really pissed at her…for a myriad of reasons. Our talk, often interrupted by the bartenders and other patrons professing their shock, was only scratching the surface of how either one of us was feeling. I knew there would be a time and place for him to lose it…for him to let go and grieve. I figured there would be a point where we would go up to the springs and it would, likely, be there where he would be comfortable in letting it all out. For the moment, in an unsaid, unspoken conversation, we had decided to just go about the business of getting through the next few days…there would be a lot to do, a lot to attend to and Michael’s family would need us to be strong…so we were resigned to putting aside our stuff until later. We nursed our drinks…did a couple of shots…talked more about sports…and finished up. We would need to be, somewhat, level-headed when we got back to the winery.