by T. K. Chapin
“Why’d you ignore it? She probably wants to know what’s going on.”
“I can’t do this!” she finally snapped at me. “I can’t deal with this right now, Micah! I need to breathe!” She started crying harder and choked up as she continued, “My baby girl is dead, and I don’t know how to process this right now.”
“Can I see your phone?” I asked, being sure to keep a soft tone.
She pulled it out of her purse and handed it to me as I parked her car in our driveway. Holding the power button, I said, “There. Take your time to process this. I’ll take care of the rest.”
She shook her head as she looked over at me. Her red and swollen eyes made contact with mine for the first time since we got in the car. Those once lively and sweet eyes reflected a sorrow so heart wrenching that it cut into the deepest parts my soul. I know she didn’t want to talk, but she did say something that touched me. “Thank you, Micah.” I loved her ability, even in the midst of grief, to acknowledge and appreciate the things I did. Grabbing her purse and phone, she got out of the car.
I watched as Denise went around the front of the car and up to the house. Her shoulders were hunched and her head hung low as she climbed the steps to the front door. Looking up at the house, it seemed so different than only a few hours ago. It wasn’t a home anymore, just a reminder of a life lost. Even the way Denise shut the door came across as sad. Everything felt sad. When the front door finally shut, I let myself fall apart in the car. Tears ran violently down my cheeks as I slammed the steering wheel. My anger boiled as I bowed my head to pray.
Dear Lord, how am I going to help my wife, Lord, when I can’t even help myself? She’s hurting and broken, but I’m not doing so hot either. I don’t know what to do.
I paused my prayer and looked up at the house again. A whisper from the depths of my soul told me I couldn’t do this.
I pushed the whisper aside, writing it off as my flesh torturing me. Opening the car door, I went inside the house. As I shut the door behind me, I heard my bedroom door upstairs close. Giving her some space, I went into the living room and pulled the laptop out from beside the couch. I knew what I needed to do. There had to be some sort of message sent out online to pull the focus off Denise and to bring it all to an understanding of what had happened and what we need from others. I had phoned my father earlier at the hospital and he trickled it through the family, so it was getting around, but I needed a statement from us sent out to all our friends and extended family. Denise and I were fairly active in the church, so it’d be good if others knew what was going on.
Staring blankly at the little window where I updated my status, my tears began to flow again. Clenching my jaw, I forced the tears to stop and my fingers were soon gliding across the keys. There were ten solid minutes of typing and backspacing and then typing some more. There’s no right way to do it, I thought to myself as I wiped my face of tears. Taking a deep breath, I set my fingers on the keyboard again and began typing.
Tragedy can strike in a moment we least expect. It comes like an unwelcomed guest into our lives and challenges us like nothing else. Today we lost our baby girl in a car accident. While we know she’s with Jesus now, we can’t help but wonder why. How can a loving God take away a life before it truly began? She was on the brink of graduating high school, going to college and starting her life. While at the hospital, I watched as some knocked-up, teenage girl was wheeled by to go deliver a baby out of wedlock. That infuriated me. How could some stupid, knocked-up teenager get to keep on living while my sweet angel dies?
Realizing that wasn’t the right thing to say and almost embarrassed by my harshness, I backspaced it all out. I was tired of trying, so I went ahead and did a very plain and dry status update that delivered the facts and helped those who read it be comforted.
Today Jasmine was in a fatal car accident, and we ask for your prayers and distance while we grieve the loss of our daughter. It’s through trials and loss that we are able to truly rely on God Almighty and all His infinite power. God is good, and we will praise Him in this storm. Jasmine will not feel the pain of this world anymore, only everlasting joy as she is in Heaven now with Jesus. Thank you for your condolences and we appreciate the distance for us to grieve during this time.
It felt fake, real fake. But I knew it’s what people needed to hear from a deacon in the church and the wife who helps lead a Sunday school class every week. They didn’t need to know the truth and the absolute struggle I was having internally at the moment. They needed the encouragement.
Hitting ‘submit’, I closed the laptop and turned off my own phone so I could ignore the incoming calls, text messages and notifications that I knew would follow even though I had specifically requested distance.
Glancing through the hallway and to the stairwell, I thought about Denise upstairs. Knowing she was hurting, struggling, and depressed, I felt inclined to at least poke my head in there. There weren’t words I could say or any action I could do to help, but maybe my presence alone could be of some benefit to her.
Climbing the stairs, I paused at the top as my eyes fell on Jasmine’s bedroom door across the hall from ours. I felt that same lump from the hospital in my throat and anger in my heart. I clenched my jaw as emotions ripped through me and tears began to fall again—anger at God, sadness over the loss, and a great sense of confusion as to why it all had to happen.
I took large and quiet breaths to not alert Denise. I had to keep it together for her. I had to be strong for her. She needed a man of strength who could be there for her in her time of need.
Once composed, I walked to our bedroom door and opened it. Seeing Denise lying on the edge of the bed and facing the wall about killed me. She was miserable. “Denise,” I said, taking a step inside.
“I came up here for a reason, Micah . . .” she said in a quiet voice. “I need to be alone.”
“Okay. Is there anything I can do or get for you?”
She sat up and turned around. Her eyes were still swollen and tear-filled. “How about our daughter? Can you get that for me?”
“Denise . . .”
“Oh. You can’t do that . . . can you? You, with that great relationship with God. What good is that now, Micah? My baby is dead! He could’ve kept her safe! He should’ve watched over her! He failed her and He failed me!” She shook her head and looked over to the lamp that was on the end table. She stood up and touched the rim of the lampshade and then suddenly grabbed it. Yanking the cord out of the wall, she launched the lamp across the room. I ducked and it crashed into the wall behind me, shattering. “Leave me alone!” she yelled.
I turned and left the room, devastated at the temper my wife had succumbed to. Tears filled my eyes as I closed the door.
CHAPTER 9
The week following the accident flew by, but not without moments that were grueling and long. Off and on our friends, family and people from church came by the house to bring meals and to see how we were doing. Even a few of the guys from the station stopped by a few different times during the week.
One early afternoon the doorbell rang. I got up from the couch with a heavy sigh and headed for the door. Stopping at the stairs, I hollered up to Denise, who had camping out in the bedroom. “Were you expecting someone?”
She came out from the room and rested her hands on the railing as she looked down at me. “No.”
I grunted and continued to the door.
“Move a little quicker, please. I don’t want to stand here longer than need be. And I swear, if it’s Mrs. Roberts from up the street again, I’m going to lose it.”
I opened it. It was our pastor. “Pastor,” I said, surprised.
He put his hands up and said, “I know you weren’t expecting me, but I wanted to chat with you guys.”
“I don’t want to chat,” Denise said coldly as she turned and went back into the room. I could almost see the pastor cringe as the bedroom door slammed shut.
“She’s a little upset,” he said as I
motioned him in and led him to the living room.
“You could say that,” I replied in an emotionless tone as we sat down on the couch. “Our daughter is dead.”
“We’ve been praying for you. We’re all really sorry about what happened.”
I laughed a little and shook my head as I wasn’t able to mask my true feelings in the moment. Praying for me? Sorry about it? I was sick of hearing the same thing over and over again from every person I spoke with since Jasmine had passed.
Are you upset with God, Micah?” he asked, sitting down on the loveseat as I took a seat on the couch.
My eyebrows furrowed and I said, “How could you ask that? You know I know the Bible inside and out.”
“I’m not asking about what’s in the Bible. I’m asking about what’s inside of you.”
My jaw clenched and I peered toward the hallway, thinking about Denise. “I am upset. I have a lot of anger and confusion right now. I can’t stand not knowing the reasons for this.”
“Remember when your captain died?”
“Of course,” I replied, sitting back into the couch.
“You struggled, but you understood it’s God’s timing and He is ultimately in control.”
“Yeah . . . but this is my daughter. She had her whole life ahead of her.” I shook my head as tears welled in my eyes. “The Cap had lived a long life. Had grown kids. It was hard, but it was okay. My daughter, though . . .” My lips tightened.
“Thomas was still someone’s husband, someone’s dad, and even someone’s kid.”
“Good point, but he wasn’t any of that to me, Pastor.”
“I know,” he replied with a raised eyebrow. “But you were walking around counseling everybody with the loss.”
“I don’t get the point you are trying to make.”
“The point I’m trying to make is God’s timing is God’s timing regardless of the relationship with the person who passed on.”
“I know that, but that doesn’t mean I like it or understand it.”
“You and I have promises in the Bible we can rely on. We have hope.”
“God promises a lot in the Bible. Some of that is where my confusion stems from. Like for instance, He has great and wonderful plans for our lives. That’s a pretty interesting promise, especially for Jasmine. She’s dead, yet the moronic boyfriend gets to live. Wonderful plan, God!”
“Micah Freeman!” the pastor scolded me as he stood up. “I’ve known you for a long time, and I would never expect to hear these kinds of things from you. You are a man of God!”
He was right; this wasn’t like me at all. I was the cool and levelheaded guy that was always calming people down when they were upset. I took a deep breath and raised a hand to my forehead. Rubbing my temples with my hand over my brow, I said, “I’m sorry, Pastor. I don’t know what to do.”
“Go.”
“What? Where?”
He came over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Back to Calvary’s Cross. Get back to basics. This . . .” He paused and looked me over before continuing. “This isn’t you.” He dropped his hand away from my shoulder and headed out of the room and down the hallway.
Knowing I needed time alone with God, I caught up to him before he left out the door. I said, “Would it be bad if I left town and went to my cabin?”
He glanced over at the stairs for a second and then at me. “I wouldn’t leave your wife; I’d take her.” He forced a smile out of the corner of his mouth. “Pray about it.”
I reached out and grabbed onto the doorknob to open it for him. As he stepped outside and went to his car, I thought about Denise. She was hurting and miserable just as much as me. My gut told me I shouldn’t want to go on the road trip to Ocean Shores, but I knew I couldn’t stay in this house for another night.
Closing the front door, I headed upstairs. Praying as I climbed my way up the stairs, I asked God for peace to wash over Denise and for Him to help her heart soften.
I opened the bedroom door and found Denise asleep under the big white comforter on the bed. Coming into the room, I took a seat on the edge of the bed next to her. Pushing the hair out of her eyes, I glided my fingers softly across her cheek. She woke up.
“What are you doing?” she asked with furrowed eyebrows.
“Stop being so mad.”
“You woke me up to tell me that?”
“No. I’m going to head out to the cabin.”
She sat up and looked at me. “What? You’re going to Ocean Shores?”
“Yeah. I want you to come with me.”
She scoffed and looked away. “Running away from my problems isn’t something I’m interested in, Micah. I, unlike you, can deal with them.”
My eyes strained as I kept my lips sealed. I didn’t even say a word, and she knew exactly what I was thinking.
“Shut up, Micah!” she demanded. “I know what you’re thinking. I’ve kept myself hidden away up here in the bedroom. How’s that for facing problems? But you know what? I’m not leaving town with you. I need to deal with me alone too. I think—”
“I think your bitterness and coldness froze your heart, Denise.” I raised my hands and stood up from the bed. “I’m not forcing you to go. I wasn’t just going to walk out of the house and leave without letting you know my plans and asking you to come with me.” I let my hands drop to my sides and I headed over to the closet to start packing.
As I pulled the suitcase down from the shelf up in the closet, Denise spoke up again. Her tone was softer this time; I don’t know what changed. “Why are you going?” she asked.
Turning around as I set the suitcase down on the floor of the closet, I looked at her. “I want to be alone with God. Go back to the cross of Calvary and get back to basics.” I shook my head and looked around the room. “Everything here is a reminder of Jasmine.”
“This isn’t something you can escape. This is real. Our daughter is dead.”
“Yeah. Stop saying that all the time. I know she is. I need to get myself re-aligned with God, Denise.”
“You’ll never find a reason why, Micah, if that’s what you’re searching for.”
I paused.
“And you already knew that.”
My lips pursed and my jaw clenched as I turned and began pulling shirts and pants down from hangers.
“I really don’t understand why you need to go on this trip, but whatever. If you need this, then do it.” She hid back under the covers and went silent.
I stopped packing and walked over to Denise’s side of the bed and bent a knee down. Pulling the covers down from her face, I wiped a runaway tear from her eye. Taking her hand in mine, I kissed the top of it and looked her in the eyes. “Why the change of heart?”
“I don’t want to be the she-demon I’ve been the last week. If you die in a car wreck today, I don’t want that to be the last thing you remember.”
“Oh,” I replied with a raised brow. “Romantic.”
She forced a smile but said nothing in return.
“I’d love for you to join me.”
She sniffled. “I don’t want to go. I have absolutely no desire.”
“Well, if you change your mind, you’ll know where I am.”
“How long are you going to be gone?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, standing up and walking over to the window that looked over the front yard. Glancing out the window, I said, “As long as it takes.”
“Okay,” she replied. “Did you pray about it?”
Turning around to her, I nodded. “Yes. and I have peace about it.”
“You should go. I don’t like it, but I think you should go.”
“Thank you.” Going back into the closet, I finished packing my suitcase.
Giving Denise a kiss on the lips, I said, “I’ll call when I arrive there safely, but you know you can always call me if you want to talk.” I headed downstairs and out the front door in pursuit of the cabin at Ocean Shores.
CHAPTER 10
S
ix and a half hours later I arrived in Ocean Shores. When I pulled into town it was about dinner time, so I headed down to my local favorite restaurant, The Home Port. They had the best fish and chips in town.
Getting out of my truck, I inhaled a deep breath of the ocean air. I felt relaxed. Sadness still lingered, but the salty ocean air had a way of just setting me at ease. The ocean itself always reminded me of how big God was. Walking up to the front doors of the restaurant, I smiled at a couple as I held the door open for them.
Once inside, I spotted Joe Edmunds sitting at a table with his wife, Betty, and their two kids, Lonnie and Quin. The Edmunds were a family we knew from the local Christ Community Church and lived only a few houses down from the cabin. We had met them a few years ago when we first got to town. Denise, Jasmine and I always visited them when we came to town. This wasn’t one of those trips, though; I wanted to be alone.
I was glad when they seemed to not notice me and the hostess led me to the opposite side of the restaurant. “Your waitress will be here shortly,” the young woman said as she set the menu down and returned to the front.
The atmosphere inside The Home Port was lively and the aroma of fried fish could be smelled everywhere in the restaurant. Light country music played in the background, but it was mostly drowned out by the conversations at the tables. Opening my menu, I already knew what I wanted, but I wondered if they had anything else that might pique my interest.
“Could I get you started with a drink? Tonight’s special is a Long Island Iced Tea for a buck,” the waitress said.
“Just water with a lime would be great,” I replied, looking up at her with a smile.
“Okay. Any appetizers?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. I’ll be back with your water,” she replied with a smile as she left the table.
Returning to my menu, I continued to flip through the pages.
“Micah Freeman?”
Looking up, I saw it was Joe.