Blinded by Grief

M. Stanley Bubien

I felt numb, but it wasn't the drugs.

"Is there anything you need?" the nurse asked.

I just stared at her.

Her question lingered until I returned to my prayer, "Lord. There is so much I need, but there's nothing she can do about it. Nothing."

My thoughts wandered as I prayed. I let the vision of that night come---not welcoming it, but allowing it.

There was Molly, reading her dinosaur book in the back seat. She asked about the Tyrannosaurs Rex. Her mother turned back to answer. Leslie only took her eyes off the road for an instant. She never saw the truck.

But I did.

"Father, everything happened in that moment. My whole life happened; my whole life was stripped away. It left me feeling blind. Will I ever see again, Lord? Who can make me see again?"

In the passenger seat, I jammed my foot instinctively against the floorboard, but the brake wasn't there. I watched helpless as the truck flew toward us. My last memory was glass brushing across my face. I'll always wonder what Leslie and Molly's last memories were. Probably something about a giant dinosaur eating unsuspecting victims. Just like that semi ate them.

"Oh Father," I sighed. "I'm lost without them. How will I ever be found?"

I felt needles in my arms, sniffed oxygen through my nostrils, saw the machines displaying my vitals. All this kept me alive, but none if it gave me life.

"Oh Lord, who can give my life back? Oh Father... Dear Father..."

Copyright ©1996 M. Stanley Bubien. All Rights Reserved.

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August, 1996 Issue #5

256 Words

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