Hopelessness

It had seemed like such a good idea when he started out the day. Riding around, enjoying the scenery and clear his head. There was so much inside of him, he felt like he was going to explode. He just wanted to get away, forget it all.


It had been pleasant driving around. He had taken road after road. Left turn, right turn, it didn't matter. He just wanted the peace of the drive.


It was a beautiful day for a drive. Sunny, blue, and cloudless skies were the perfect medicine to his troubled soul. He was soon lost, but didn't care. He was just going to go where the road took. He would worry about getting home later. Now, he was just concentrating on letting it all go.


As it got on later in the day, he realized it was time to be starting to head home. He had no real idea of where he was. The sky was no longer clear and crystal blue, but now cloudy and threatening rain. It was summer and time for the late afternoon thunderstorm. 


Deciding to turn around, he turned on his GPS and waited for a signal. While he was waiting, he realized that while he had driven all day, he still had no better idea of what to do. If he left, he would be condemning himself, but if he stayed, he would be doing the same. 


The GPS had finally caught up with him and was pointing his way home. Trusting in its guidance as he always did, he turned the car in the right direction and started home. His heart got heavier with every single mile. Stay or go. Stay or go. Over and over it repeated within him. He wished this was an easy decision to reach. 


He hadn't gotten far when the rain started. At first it was heavy, but then it lightened into a normal summer shower. Just enough water to slick the roads. Lost in thought, he wasn't paying attention and almost missed his turn. Snapping too, he jerked the wheel hard in an effort to make the turn. 


It was too late, and he knew it as soon as he did it. The car started sliding across the wet pavement, now slicked like an oil spill. Unable to control it, he slid off the side, and over. The car started flipping almost immediately, all he could do was pray to God and hold on. 


Over and over and over, the car flipped going down the hill. Soon the car smashed into a small tree, demolishing it. But the tree did slow the car's plummet, as did the next and then the next. Finally coming to a rest, the smashed and beaten car was easily a tenth of a mile from the road, buried in the trees. Even if you knew where to look, you would miss the wreckage.


He wasn't sure how long he had been laying there, when he came to. All he knew was excruciating pain every time he breathed, and that he couldn't move the left side of his body. Slowly turning his neck, he looked around. The car was demolished. He couldn't see out of the windshield, it was so spider-webbed, but he could see out of the gap between the windshield and the frame. The only things he could see where trees though. 


He looked down at his body. He was pinned in the seat, the door was smashed onto his arm, completely attached. What he could see of his left arm was soaked in crimson of blood. He knew something major had been severed, but he couldn't feel it. Looking down at his chest, he saw what looked like a tree limb sticking out. Astonished, he gently raised his right hand and touched it. It hurt a lot. A LOT! He raised his hand to wipe his face, and saw that it came away bloody. 


He knew that he was in bad shape. He knew that he needed to call for help. Looking around, he spotted his cell phone. Praising God for small miracles, he picked it up. Getting ready to call 911, he realized that he had absolutely no idea of where he was. They would want him to stay on the line so that they could use his phone to locate him. He looked at the battery, it was almost dead. He probably only had enough for one call. 


He debated. Call 911 or call her. Tell her how much he loved her, how sorry he was that this had happened. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, to tell her how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life getting to know her. To tell her all the secrets of his heart, to confide in her all his secrets, to share and be whole. Or did he call 911 and try to save himself. There was no real guarantee that they would be able to find him.


He dialed the number. It was now or never, it was starting to hurt to breathe, and his sight was getting dim. The phone rang, and rang and rang and rang. Finally, the voice mail kicked on. She wasn't going to answer his call. He waited for the tone. 


"I love you. I'm sorry. Goodbye love." was all he managed before everything went black.




He never heard the phone ring back.