It was a miracle.
Early last spring, sporting jeans, flip-flops and a hack-saw, my husband’s 77 year-old father took it upon himself to climb the 30-foot apple tree in our backyard, to prune it within an inch of its life.
Ned begged him to come down. His father ha ha ha, waved his saw in the air. He grew up swinging from the trees of Constantine, Algeria, barefoot and free, plucking nuts and fruit off the branches with his teeth. I watched as his elderly toes curled around a gnarly branch and he hoisted himself higher in the overgrown tree, closer and closer to heaven.
Ned turned white. I grabbed my camera.
It was an accident. Last October, my oldest friend Naomi’s life-partner Mike got locked in at work on a Saturday. He didn’t want to hassle anyone and the only way out was to scale an eight-foot fence. He used to jump fences as a kid.
I didn’t ask what Mike was wearing on his feet when he fell. At 52. On to the concrete, shattering his right knee, left elbow and prescription glasses. In the super-human spectacle that is shock, he somehow made it to his car, blindly drove the ninety-minutes home, called Naomi and told her to meet him in their driveway. When they got to the hospital, the pain.
When Naomi told me what happened, my brain flashed on Ned’s father and our apple tree, and for the first time it hit me that he could have died. That it was a freaking miracle he didn’t fall and break his neck. One peeping blue jay. One snapping branch. One wrong move-
The phone cried.
Mike is dead.
What??
Mike is dead.
MIKE IS DEAD??!!
He’s dead.
Mortal shock. The day after coming home from the hospital, days after the surgery that would have had him lying prone for two months in a haze of gratitude and the womb of their 13-year love, a homicidal blood clot raced up his leg into his lungs and killed him on the spot. It happened as fast as the time it took Naomi to tell me.
The brain scrambles to find words for the heart.
*
Click here to read Life or Death, 2.
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Comment by Burns the Fire — January 14, 2013 @ 3:28 pm |
This story is perfect in its symmetry. When we don’t do what we are supposed to ..when we put ourselves in danger. Sometimes it goes well, it can inspire our minds, making us think we should take more changes in life to be freed from the constraints of gravity. But when it goes wrong, our mind says we should have just played it safe, we are happy to be on familiar solid ground.
My condolences to Mike’s wife. My admiration for your husband’s father.
Comment by donnietheg — January 14, 2013 @ 4:00 pm |
Christ, you just never know. Love this, Brenda.
Comment by Leila Marshy — January 14, 2013 @ 5:27 pm |
Wow!
Sent from my iPhone
Comment by Judith Alexander — January 14, 2013 @ 7:14 pm |
Nice post B!
Comment by Ella Fine — January 14, 2013 @ 8:00 pm |
Beautiful & utterly heart-wrenching…
Comment by Alex — January 14, 2013 @ 8:55 pm |
omm, so sad.
Comment by shirin — January 15, 2013 @ 11:25 am |
My warmest wishes for you and this blog.I look forward to read more about life…and death.Love
Comment by paramitadas — January 16, 2013 @ 9:55 am |
I’m reminded of a story that my father has told. He, at about age 40, held the ladder for his uncle, at about age 70, pruning a treetop; my dad thinking to himself, “What the hell am I doing down here?” But like your father-in-law, and Mike, that was the way my Zio Tony wanted to do it. And like them, that DIY zeal was probably one of the qualities that made him who he was.
Comment by catherine — January 16, 2013 @ 9:46 pm |
Wow…what a wringer!! The pic and the post both made my heart skip a beat or two. Still wondering…Is your husband’s Dad OK? And heartbroken to read about Naomi’s dear sweet husband. All to show us how fragile and precious we are….!!! Love each other NOW, Thanks for an excellent post, as usual.
Comment by Jean-Elliott Manning — January 18, 2013 @ 3:20 pm |
Thanks all for your deeply felt comments. For those who are wondering- my husband’s Dad is fine. Thankfully, he did NOT fall. Wish I could say the same for Mike.
Comment by Burns the Fire — January 18, 2013 @ 3:26 pm |
Humans!!?! So fragile. Good post, Brenda.
Comment by Howard — January 22, 2013 @ 3:46 pm |
Brenda j’aime lire ton blogue et merci pour ces histoires si humaines et si tristes.
Love to you and Ned.
Comment by Geneviève Letarte — February 1, 2013 @ 9:11 am |
Oh man, poor Mike. Sorry to hear about that, my late condolences. Your hubby’s dad certainly likes to play with danger, doesn’t he? Good to know he’s all right. Excellent post!
Comment by Sapphire Diaz — February 8, 2013 @ 8:54 pm |
[...] Click here to read Love or Death, 1. [...]
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