My first memory is my mother singing.
I do not remember the title of what she was singing except that it was a simple melody of a love song from my mother’s childhood. I remember it being about a lovely girl telling her lover to look at her and take heart for she will love him all the days of her life.
It is funny that this song should be playing in my head as I lay here dying.
The gently falling autumn rain was doing an awful job of washing away the blood from my face. I cannot move my hands to wipe it off and it keeps getting into my eyes. Honestly, it is getting annoying.
I seem to no longer have any feeling in my legs. Something must have gone wrong with my spine. I imagine it is like an appliance plug getting pulled out of a wall socket, except the appliance happens to be my legs. I have seen this on TV many times. Maybe I should try to wiggle my toes.
Hmm. How can you tell you are wiggling your toes if you cannot feel them?
I can still hear my mother’s song, but now it is interspersed with the voice of the OnStar operator asking me if I am okay.
I did not know the OnStar thing still works.
The operator sounded young but professional. She is asking me about my condition. I wanted to tell her I was broken, wet, and getting blood all over my brother’s favorite sweater that I borrowed without his permission.
Of course, I did not actually say that to her. I cannot move my jaw.
She has called 911 and first responders are on the way. She says I should just hang on and they will arrive soon. Sure, I have nothing better to do.
The operator is staying on the line, talking to me, trying to keep my attention.
My mother’s song has played in a loop about five times now.
The OnStar girl is still jabbering on. She sounds like she is getting worried about me. She is doing her best to sound professional and not break out into a sobbing mess. She must be new to this. Bless your heart, lady. And, sorry for being your first... this.
My thoughts are starting to swim. Memories float to the surface. Buoyant bubbles rising to pop before my eyes.
That was how I met her: my darling girl. At the beach.
I was swimming along with my head under the water and not paying attention to where I was going when I bumped into her, burping out bubbles in surprise. I poked my eyes out of the water, the human approximation of a hippo.
The ginger girl in front of me was lanky and tall for a 13-year-old. She looked down at me with her freckled face and said: “Watch it, Bub!”
I was in love. I was 13 years old and for the first time in my life, I was in love. No. No. Not just in love... I was enamored, enchanted, and captivated. I was dumbstruck, lightning struck, and all other kinds of struck. I felt like 20,000 volts was racing through my veins.
Je suis amoureux! I was in love in French, and I did not even know HOW to speak French!
She was wearing a little polka dot biki... no, it was blue. No, a powder blue dress! She said it once belonged to her mom. Her mom wore it to her winter formal. She got it resized for her.
She asked me what I thought. I said... I am on my way. I will be there when you need me the most. I will be there for you... it is never easy to lose a loved one. I lost my mother a few years ago.
I wanted to tell her that everything was going to be fine, but... my jaw would not move.
I hear sirens getting closer. The rain still has not let up. Roads can get awfully slippery in this weather.
My mother’s song is still playing in my head, background music to scenes in my life. They go together well.
I see the first responder come up to me, give me a head-to-toe assessment and say: “Don’t worry, son, we got you. Don’t move.”
Yes, sir, I mentally answered him. I can definitely not move.
The EMT folks work fast and professionally. I have never seen such skills. The TV shows I watched have nothing on these people!
You guys deserve a medal. Several medals! But you all probably have more than a few already. I’ll just treat you all to burgers and fries. Even cheesy fries! Sky’s the limit!
Suddenly, the music in my head stopped. I could not hear the sirens or what the EMTs were saying. The rain got quiet. All sounds stopped.
I am standing. When did I...?
I turn around.
“Oh! Hi, Mom!”
—
Jonathan Diloy is a military veteran and full-time psychology student with a raging reading habit. He was a Navy Seabee and has worked for the US State Department, the White House Military Office, the National Institutes of Health, and Amazon. He has been to every continent except Australia and Antarcica. He attends Hagerstown Community College in Maryland. His experiences as a service member, global traveler, student, and husband to a wonderfully demanding woman have bestowed him with stories from the small moments of everyday life to the fantastical machinations of the imagination.