Losing Joe – Hanging On To Life, One Breath At A Time
Chapter 4
After receiving that indescribable phone call about Joe, my husband and I somehow found our way to his parent’s house (honestly, we should not have been driving). I remember him asking me which direction their house was, which was only minutes from his job. But, on that particular day, we didn’t know where to go or how to get there. Thirty minutes later, we finally arrived at their house. We had to tell our parents this horrific news; we didn’t know if they could handle what we were about to say; God knows we were hanging on by a string. They are both in their late 80s and not in the best health; we held on to our faith at that moment. My husband grabbed my hand as we walked in the front door, and his crippling broken voice told his parents about Joe. I don’t think I can find a word that describes the look on their face, except maybe devastation and despair. My husband’s dad muttered words. I could not hear what he was saying. I remember him standing in the living room, and it seemed like he could not move. Isadore’s mom broke into tears, walked over to her only son, and put her arms around him, crying painfully. Seeing the emotional destruction that immediately consumed their entire body was just as painful.
I slowly found my way to the bedroom, walking as if nothing was beneath my feet. I was lifeless. I threw myself on the bed and closed my eyes. I didn’t know what to do, who to call, or what to say; I couldn’t breathe or speak. It felt like hours had passed as I remained in the same spot on my in-law’s bed. My head hurt, eyes, hands, and feet, and my entire body was freezing. Then, I heard a familiar voice at the front door, and when I opened my eyes, it was my niece, Aileen. I had been with her earlier that morning. I could hear her tears outside as she walked into the house. I looked at her as she approached me, and we said nothing. She sat next to me and wrapped her arms into mine as we both spewed a fountain of tears rolling down our faces.
My husband had been trying to reach our two daughters; I’m not sure at what point that day he finally spoke to them both, but he finally broke the news to both of our girls. All he told me was they were on their way home. Aileen helped and drove me home; I could see her hands trembling and the whites of her knuckles as she clutched tightly to the steering wheel. I called my sister Liz (we are very close, and she’s also Joseph’s Godmother). I tried to tell her what had happened, but nothing I said made any sense. I kept talking in circles. Finally, Aileen shouted, her voice cracking so horrific, “NINA, IT JOSEPH! JOSEPH ANTHONY DIED! ITS JOE! HE’S GONE, NINA! I couldn’t hear anything afterward; silence consumed my every thought.
The drive home seemed to take hours; it was the longest ride home. All I could do was stare out the passenger window; cars were speeding past us, and people were always in a hurry; why? Vagrants were holding up “I need food” signs; others were standing at crosswalks waiting for the green signal to cross the street; kids were riding their bikes, the world kept moving, and everybody had a place they were going. However, my world had come to a complete standstill; my entire life would no longer be the same as I once knew it.
We arrived home to find the parking area in front of our condo full of cars. News about Joe’s death quickly traveled thru town. Aileen helped me upstairs to my bedroom; all I wanted was to sleep. And, pray that maybe this will be a bad dream when I wake up. Aileen told me everybody was waiting for our girls to arrive. My husband had called them both.
I died with my son that day; the only difference was I continued to live thru my death. Excruciating agony and deep pain cut the core of my soul into a million pieces.
