All Right

I never saw it coming. I was taking my kids home from school. "Noah, Amber! Quit fighting!" I had just commanded, trying to manage to keep control of my kids and my vehicle simultaneously. I glanced at the backseat for a second, and when I looked back at the highway, it was too late. My stomach lurched like I was on a rollercoaster as a massive 18-wheeler careened uncontrollably straight towards us. I reached for the steering wheel, but before my fingertips even touched it, I heard a deafening CRUNCH and the sickening screech of metal. Time stood still for a moment, and then everything was black.

 I awoke to blinding fluorescent lights and the whirr of machines. I took in a deep breath, and smelled a mingle of hand sanitizer, and- there was no other way to describe it- clean. I looked around me and saw multiple bouquets, cards, and balloons. I was in the hospital. I tried to sit up, but I realized that I was attached to numerous tubes connecting me to the machines. I was blissfully unaware for a minute, and then the memories came flooding back. 

 "No..." I said quietly, still disbelieving. It was a dream. God, please, it was a dream! I eyed the red button for calling the nurse. I ignored the tubes pulling on my skin as I reached to press it. A few seconds later, a heavyset nurse came bustling into the room. She started when she saw me, and then called down the hall, "She's awake!" She smiled excitedly and then said to me softly, "How are you feeling, Georgia?" I quickly answered, "I'm fine! Where are Amber and Noah?" I swallowed my anxiety. The nurse seemed to ignore me. 

 "I'm just gonna check your vitals, hon." She looked at all the beeping monitors and added more fluid to my IV bags. 

 "Where are my kids?" I asked again, slightly more panicked. "I need to see them!" She gave me a kind, sympathetic kind of look.

 "Your husband, Mike, is in the waiting room. Do you want to see him?" she asked. I nodded. Maybe Mike could tell me what was going on.

 "Okay, hon. I'll send him in." She hurried out of the room.

 "Georgia!" my husband exclaimed after rushing inside my room. "Georgia, how are you feeling?" 

 "I'm fine," I replied. He gave me a gentle kiss and sat on my bed.

 "Where are the kids?" I demanded. He attempted to do the same thing as the nurse and shift the subject. "Well, first let's check up on you. Are you positive that you are all right?" I sighed exasperatedly. 

 "WHERE ARE MY BABIES?" I yelled frustratedly. He just looked at me. I was about to yell some more, but I stared into his eyes. They were the eyes of someone suffering. They were eyes of someone being tortured, and tears were flooding them. My heart sank. This was not good.

 "Where are they?" I whispered though I thought I already knew the answer. He breathed a deep, steadying breath.

 "Amber is unconscious in the ICU, but the docs are optimistic. They say she has a very good possibility of making it. I know Amber is strong. She'll make it," he declared. "She takes after her mom." I breathed a sigh of relief. My daughter was okay. No, not okay, but she would be. 

 "Wait a minute- what about Noah?" I asked Mike. My heart sank again. Mike bit his lip as his tears spilled out onto his cheeks. He held my hand and whispered, "Gone. He's gone." 

 "No. Nononononononono. NO!" I yelled. "NO! You're lying! No..." My screams turned into wails and my husband wrapped his arms around me. "He- he can't just be gone," I sobbed. "No..." I cried. I don't know how long I stayed there, sinking in an endless ocean of my despair, my only lifeboat my husband. My heart felt void and hollow. Gone... 

 Eventually, I came to my senses. "I need to see him," I said. I thought that Mike would try to discourage me, but he merely nodded at me with understanding. He went out of the room, and a bit later, a nurse came to take the tubes out of me and put me into a wheelchair. Mike and I said nothing to each other as he rolled me down the hallway, but the silence was not icy. It was something deeper than words. We came to a stop inside a hospital room with a curtain drawn around the bed. 

 "Noah," I whispered. I stood up and ignored the pain it shot through my body as I walked towards the curtain. I moved the curtain aside. He was covered in blood, bruises, and gashes, but I didn't care.

 "My baby," I said as my heart shattered into a million fragments. I sat on his bed and scooped him into my arms. "Mommy is going to sing a lullaby to you that you loved when you were a tiny baby." I glanced over to Mike, who was in the corner of the room, tears running down his face. "My baby, my darling, I love you," I sang, my voice cracking. "You are so precious to me, and you'll stay in my heart for as long as I live, and for always my baby you'll be." Teardrops dripped onto Noah's face as I cradled him. My soul was splitting in two, and my very bones seemed to be aching. I kissed my son on the forehead and tucked him into his sheets. 

 "Goodnight, my sweet boy," I said as my heart ripped into a million tiny fragments. "Sleep well," I whispered. "I love you." 

 The same motherly nurse from before peeped into the room and said, "I am incredibly sorry to interrupt, but your daughter is awake."

 "Amber, baby?" I said after we had gotten to Amber's room. 

 "Mom? Dad?" Amber croaked. I had thought that I had had a lot of equipment attached to me, but it was nothing compared to Amber's. I tried to tune out the beep-beep of her heart monitor as Mike wheeled me up to her. I swept her hair out of her eyes with my hand. 

 "How are you, honey?" asked Mike. "Are you thirsty? The nurse can bring you some water if you want." 

 "I'm ok," she said. Mike glanced at me and muttered something that sounded like "just like you". "Momma, you look hurt!" she said with worry. "Are you okay?" 

 "Yeah, sweetie, Mommy is just a little beat up from the car wreck," I said, brushing it off. Amber had huge bruises blossoming across her face and body, and she had a deep cut on her forehead. "The doctors are going to make you and me feel better, okay?"

 "Are they going to make Noah feel better too?" she asked. I exchanged a look with my husband. I could not do this. I shouldn't have to explain the death of her brother to my kindergartener. 

 "Baby, I know you are a very big girl. You are a big girl, right?" My husband asked. She nodded. "Well, I need to tell you something that just a big girl can take. Is that okay?" She nodded again. My husband took a deep breath. I could tell he was trying not to cry because I was doing the same thing. "Well, sometimes people that are hurt or sick go into the hospital and get better, right?" Amberly nodded. "Sometimes, people are too hurt or sick to get better." 

 "What happens to them?" Amberly asked. "Do they have to live in the hospital?" Mike bit his lip. This was hard for him. I took his hand and squeezed it.

 "Baby, sometimes they are so sick or hurt that their body doesn't work anymore. Then they have to leave, sort of like how we leave our house sometimes." I explained.

 "Do they come back ever to visit?" Amberly asked. 

 "No, they don't. They go to stay in heaven forever."

 Amberly looked alarmed. "Is my body going to stop working?"

 "Not until you are very, very old, honey," I reassured her. "We were in a car crash, and we all got hurt, right?" Amberly nodded, feeling a cut on her forearm. "Well, Noah got hurt very bad, even worse than us. His body stopped working and he went to heaven."

 Amberly's mouth widened after a second in understanding. "He went away?" she asked. 

 "Yes, he left," I answered, rubbing her shoulder. She burst into tears. 

 "I want him to come back! Can't the doctors make him come back?" she cried. I shook my head. "I hate the doctors!" She wept and cried, and we all grieved with her throughout the night. We mourned together that night, three hearts aching as one.

 The funeral was closed-casket. Mike and I didn't want Amberly to have that kind of image as the last memory of her brother. I was detached as we stood in the front of the chapel while well-wishers and friends shook our hands and embraced us awkwardly. I felt hollow as my son was lowered into the ground and dirt was shoveled onto him. It felt wrong. I wanted to rush over and take him out and tell him everything was going to be all right. But he was gone. I had to keep reminding myself of that. 

 After Noah's burial, as we were riding in Mike's truck, I couldn't keep back the tears anymore. They leaked out over my cheeks and dropped onto my dress. I stared out of the window, trying to regain control. 

 "Mommy?" asked Amberly. I wiped my eyes. Mike grabbed my hand and gave me a small smile.

 "Yes, baby?"

 "Well, I just wanted to tell you that it will be okay soon," she told me.

 And it was.

THE END