I jerked back just in time to see a deer standing in the middle of the road. On instinct, I slammed on the brakes. Addison's scream echoed through my head as the car began to spin out on the slick roads.
Time seemed to slow down to a crawl as we spun out of control. The screams were replaced by the sound of crunching metal as the car came to such a bone-jarring halt that my head bashed into the driver-side window, causing stars to burst before my eyes.
It felt like an eternity passed before my cloudy vision cleared and the ringing in my ears finally stopped. "Addy, baby … " I groaned in pain, the sound of my own voice ricocheting through my skull, making it feel like my head was about to explode.
She didn't answer. Pain gave way to hysteria when I looked toward the passenger seat at my wife's unmoving body. "Addison! Addy, baby, wake up!"
Ignoring the bolts of agony slicing through my body, I struggled against the seatbelt, futilely. "Addy! WAKE UP!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, fighting in vain to try and get to her. "Help! Somebody help us! Baby, please wake up. Don't leave me, Addy! Please, don't leave me!" I turned my head, frantically, hoping to see the headlights of an oncoming car while I continued to shout. "Someone help us! Please!"
My screams gave way to sobs as I tried so desperately to get to my wife. "Please, baby. Please." My voice cracked and I reached out, straining with all my strength, but I couldn't get to her.
People say that your life flashes before your eyes in near death experiences, but that wasn't what happened to me.
Time slowed to a crawl. An unbearable, anguished crawl, until it finally …
Just stopped.
Lilly
STARING UP AT the ceiling fan, I counted each rotation of the blades as I watched them go round and round, hoping the repeated motion would help to shut my tired brain down. Sadly, it was pointless. There wasn't anything that could calm my mind enough for sleep to take hold.
I couldn't turn any of it off. And what was worse, there was no one I could talk to about it. My best friend, the one and only real friend I ever had, was with her husband in Denver where they had their second home during the football season so they could be together while he played.
I missed her like crazy during the months she was gone, but that did nothing to take away from the happiness I felt that she was finally with the only man she'd ever loved.
Unfortunately for me, I was going through something in my life. Something so heavy I wasn't sure I could bear the weight all on my own, and the only sounding board I'd ever had was gone. And telling Eliza over the phone that my father was dying and there was nothing that could be done about it wouldn't have done me any good. Not when I needed someone to lean on when I broke down in tears, not when I needed a designated driver to make a store run when I drowned my sorrows in every bottle of wine I owned and was in desperate need of more.
No, I couldn't have that conversation over the phone. And even though I knew she'd be a rock for me, I couldn't bring myself to pour out the painful emotions rolling around inside of me on my mother. She was suffering enough as it was, knowing she only had, at best, a handful of months with the man she'd loved for as long as she could remember.
I finally gave up on sleep, but once I did, the conversation I'd had with my parents earlier that day wormed its way to the forefront of my mind.
I thought it was business as usual when my mother called asking me to make the drive from Pembrooke to Jackson Hole for dinner. It wasn't a far drive, honestly, but I was usually so busy with the dance studio that it was hard finding the time to see them on a regular basis. That was why we scheduled dinner together at their house at least twice a month.
I should have known something was wrong when my mother called a week early and requested I come, claiming that she and my father had something they needed to discuss with me. But I was so wrapped up in everything I still needed to do before I began gearing up for the Winter Showcase, I didn't stop to think how odd of a request it really was.
They knew how time consuming running my own business was, and weren't ones to ever make requests like that. I should have known. I should have paid attention to something other than myself. I shouldn't have been so selfish. Maybe if I'd have been around more, paid more attention to my father's declining health, I could have done something, like force him to stop being so stubborn and go to the doctor before it was too late.
But I didn't. And now I had to suffer the consequences.
"Prostate cancer? What are you talking about? You can't have cancer," I declared in disbelief. There was no way my father was sick. Cancer was something that happened to other families, not mine. And with the exception of the past six months or so, my father had always been the epitome of good health.