From Gray to Blue Jay

I died once.

It felt like I was gone forever—except I wasn't. The darkness shifted around my gaze and then came back. At first, I thought it was still there like a cold likes to linger. Yeah, no, it was gone . . . except it wasn't.

Gray.

That is all I know.

All I see.

All I feel.

After the accident, that is all that has been going in. And what has been coming out is anger, confusion, resentment. One thought goes in, What if I hadn't even left the house that day?

And out comes, I can't change it . . . I want to, but I can't.

Sometimes the images rush into my head.

The car.

The ringing.

The pain.

The remorse.

The regret.

But out of everything, I still can't shake the feeling of not coming back like I did—I can’t handle it again. I won’t

* * *

I sit in my chair, staring out the window. My eyes feel blank and so does my mind. The curtains blow and the birds sing. It sounds beautiful, but it does not look that way. The birds look gray and lifeless. The sky looks gloomy even though it isn't. My hands shake as I listen to the breeze float into my eardrums. It is a calm and subtle way that I remember how life used to be when I was young. I used to be happy. Energetic and not emotional and weak. I used to be full of spirit and overflowing with joy. But not now. How could I be?

After every single thing that has happened to me, how could I ever be those things? When the car hit the side of the road, I lost those things. They were gone forever and were not about to come back with the snap of a finger. I couldn’t even imagine ever getting them back. I always imagined that they would one day, but no. I see gray and that is how it will be. Forever.

What’s done is done and I can never change that. Ever.

I rise and look at my scars from the car accident. One on my palm and one on my left wrist. They are reminders of what happened to me. My sight also serves as a reminder that I am no longer the same anymore.

I listen to Alissa, my daughter, walk up the stairs with a faint, plop, pound, plop, pound, and so on.

She waits by the door now. I don't see it. I know it and I feel it. I turn around and see her gray shadow in the distance. It is slightly blurred so I have to focus much harder than usual to see her.

She is beautiful and I love her.

“Daddy,” she says softly. “Are you gonna eat supper with us?”

I force a smile. “Maybe.”

“Please . . . I'll be good, I promise.” She puts her hands to her mouth as if to signal that she was really hoping for me to say yes.

“Allright, alright, just give me a few minutes, okay?”

A wide grin spreads across her mouth, and I just can't help but smile.

“Okay,” says Alissa. “I see you down there.” And then she adds, “We got turkey and soup today, so don’t be late or Callum will surely eat it all.” She chuckles.

I nod, though I don't plan to come down. Alissa walks out of the room, her shoes hitting the wood floor and making the same faint sound as they always did. I look back out the window and sigh. As I do, a bird flies from a tree towards my open window. Its wings flap fast, creating a gray blur in the sky. When it lands on the frame it moves carefully around as if assessing if I am friendly or not.

Because it has now come so close I can tell that it is a Blue Jay, but not because of its colour, but rather because of the shape of its head. If not for the head, all I would see would be a regular gray bird with no other meaning but to exist. But I know that it has much more meaning than that. It can think. It can feel. It can see. It can love. It can hate. It can live. It can die. It has free will. And I don’t—well, that is at least how it feels.

           I stare at it for a long time.

           The bird tilts its head at a small pebble next to it. It pecks at it before it solemnly realizes that it is not food, but rather a stone.

           Just like the stone in my life. It holds me down. Keeps me from seeing the upside of things. Keeps me stuck here in my gray little world where nothing good has ever happened. Not a day goes by where I wish I could see the green leaves on the trees and the red berries hung from their branches.

I imagine the warm blue colour of it as it pecks at the window seal, looking for food. It stares at me too when it sees me watching it. Its throat bobs up and down as it breaths. It is a breathtaking creature, who seems to have a whole mind of its own.

It feels like hours that pass as I stare at it. My mind starts to swarm with random thoughts. And that’s when I see it.

The blue coat on the Jay’s wing.

Blue.

Gray has been my colour for so long. But now that I stand here looking at blue? Is it real? I blink twice. Yes.

           It is there and I am not tricking myself.

It is real.

I am real.

The blue is real.

And now my eyes see it as the one thing I can get back.

Joy.

I turn around and walk down the stairs for supper to see the colourful and bright faces of my family.

My wife holds a red apple, my son holds a green apple, and my daughter holds a blue apple.

And that’s when I wake up and I'm driving on a highway two days before the accident ever happened. That's because it hasn't happened yet. And it won't.

I will never lose sight of the one color that saved me:

Blue.