Chapter Seven: "Too Many Goodbyes"
Jing-Mei Chen, M.D
I spent too much time in this unit. More than I'd like to. But I needed to get better. I
needed to do this for myself. I couldn't let this defeat me - though in the past three weeks,
it'd seemed likely that it would. When I wasn't here for treatment I was here visiting
Dave. Roughly 3 weeks had passed since the blast, and he was the only one of them who's
survival was still in doubt. Each day that passed, his chances were slimmer and slimmer. I
was praying for the day I walked in and he'd opened his eyes. I couldn't lose them both.
Weaver hadn't lasted the day, she had passed away in the ICU the day after the explosion.
It wasn't a shock, but it did make his survival all the more important. I sometimes came
here and just sat in the darkened room next to him. It was the only place I thought clearly.
The silence helped me organise my feelings, stopped me from getting overwhelmed. It was
also a private place to sit and cry. I'd come here after the funerals. Seeing the scale of the
grief had forced guilt upon me like a ton weight. Fatherless daughters, motherless sons,
daughterless mothers and sonless fathers, all that lost just like that. Their lives had
changed in that moment and would continue to change, because what could ever be the
same again? This had been all over the media, hysteria had gripped the city, but the public
at large found it difficult to grasp the scale of the private grief. You couldn't truly know
unless you'd been there. Something I'd rue forever I had been. It'd been another one
today. Another funeral, that's why I was here.
"Hi,"
I spoke to him, hopeful what they said about coma victims was true. I must have poured
my heart out hundreds of times, said things to him I wouldn't have dared say if he was
awake. Private things I knew he couldn't help but keep a secret.
"Here again,"
I shrugged and smiled a sad smile, sitting down in my usual place. I couldn't touch him,
but then I didn't really want to.
"Mark's today. Finally."
I wasn't sure why his was so late compared to the rest. I supposed they had to be sure the
body was his. Apparently, it was so horrific they had had to identify him by dental records.
Poor Elizabeth, I thought hopelessly, knowing there was nothing I could say to make this
any easier on the widow.
"That's the last funeral I'm attending in the long while,"
Hope filled my tone, hope and belief. Belief he wouldn't leave me too. It was a determined
statement, and meant only one thing - for God's sakes don't you die on me too. The black
suit was like a second skin to me now. I seemed to spend more time wearing it that
anything else in my wardrobe. Maybe now the funeral's and the formality was over, I
could begin my own private grief process, without having everyone else's hanging over
me too. I'd lost a good, good friend in that instant of insanity. He'd pulled through once
before, but no one has the strength to twice. My feelings were nothing against the tower
of Elizabeth's grief for the father of her baby, or even Abby's. It was common knowledge
she was pregnant now, and keeping the baby. But, it didn't make it any less real for me
than it was for them.
"That's the formality over. Guess I can retreat into myself now,"
I tilted my head and looked at his scarred form. This would take years to heal. He would
never be the same again. None of us would though. It made my own scarred hands and
legs seem pitiful - although my injuries were a serious threat to my career I couldn't
ignore. The ICU nurses ignored me now, I was there so much of the time. They buzzed in
efficiently, did what they had to do and left me again in the relative quiet. It didn't look
like he was alive. I wished I could hold his hand and feel that he was because this didn't
seem real. I remembered my relief when he'd had a pulse. There hadn't been a feeling like
it I could remember. If I'd known then this would be the outcome, maybe I wouldn't have
been so happy about it. Truth was, I didn't have another thing I really wanted to say, so I
just sat there, staring. It was about 15 minutes later when I realised I had to leave. I had an
appointment with the hospital counsellor. Just routine, or so I hoped, therapy wasn't my
scene, especially not now. I lifted my head to say goodbye and saw the one thing I'd been
praying for above all others. Tears flowed unbidden from my eyes in unconfined joy.
"Oh God!"
I cried, slamming my hand on the call button.
"How long have I waited to see that?"
I sobbed overwhelmed. The nurses were in instantly. They too looked pleased.
"Back with us,"
The older nurse said, happiness undisguised in her tone. Happiness couldn't even cover
how I felt. For him it was only just beginning. But, I decided right there and then, I would
be there every step of the way.
Jing-Mei Chen, M.D
I spent too much time in this unit. More than I'd like to. But I needed to get better. I
needed to do this for myself. I couldn't let this defeat me - though in the past three weeks,
it'd seemed likely that it would. When I wasn't here for treatment I was here visiting
Dave. Roughly 3 weeks had passed since the blast, and he was the only one of them who's
survival was still in doubt. Each day that passed, his chances were slimmer and slimmer. I
was praying for the day I walked in and he'd opened his eyes. I couldn't lose them both.
Weaver hadn't lasted the day, she had passed away in the ICU the day after the explosion.
It wasn't a shock, but it did make his survival all the more important. I sometimes came
here and just sat in the darkened room next to him. It was the only place I thought clearly.
The silence helped me organise my feelings, stopped me from getting overwhelmed. It was
also a private place to sit and cry. I'd come here after the funerals. Seeing the scale of the
grief had forced guilt upon me like a ton weight. Fatherless daughters, motherless sons,
daughterless mothers and sonless fathers, all that lost just like that. Their lives had
changed in that moment and would continue to change, because what could ever be the
same again? This had been all over the media, hysteria had gripped the city, but the public
at large found it difficult to grasp the scale of the private grief. You couldn't truly know
unless you'd been there. Something I'd rue forever I had been. It'd been another one
today. Another funeral, that's why I was here.
"Hi,"
I spoke to him, hopeful what they said about coma victims was true. I must have poured
my heart out hundreds of times, said things to him I wouldn't have dared say if he was
awake. Private things I knew he couldn't help but keep a secret.
"Here again,"
I shrugged and smiled a sad smile, sitting down in my usual place. I couldn't touch him,
but then I didn't really want to.
"Mark's today. Finally."
I wasn't sure why his was so late compared to the rest. I supposed they had to be sure the
body was his. Apparently, it was so horrific they had had to identify him by dental records.
Poor Elizabeth, I thought hopelessly, knowing there was nothing I could say to make this
any easier on the widow.
"That's the last funeral I'm attending in the long while,"
Hope filled my tone, hope and belief. Belief he wouldn't leave me too. It was a determined
statement, and meant only one thing - for God's sakes don't you die on me too. The black
suit was like a second skin to me now. I seemed to spend more time wearing it that
anything else in my wardrobe. Maybe now the funeral's and the formality was over, I
could begin my own private grief process, without having everyone else's hanging over
me too. I'd lost a good, good friend in that instant of insanity. He'd pulled through once
before, but no one has the strength to twice. My feelings were nothing against the tower
of Elizabeth's grief for the father of her baby, or even Abby's. It was common knowledge
she was pregnant now, and keeping the baby. But, it didn't make it any less real for me
than it was for them.
"That's the formality over. Guess I can retreat into myself now,"
I tilted my head and looked at his scarred form. This would take years to heal. He would
never be the same again. None of us would though. It made my own scarred hands and
legs seem pitiful - although my injuries were a serious threat to my career I couldn't
ignore. The ICU nurses ignored me now, I was there so much of the time. They buzzed in
efficiently, did what they had to do and left me again in the relative quiet. It didn't look
like he was alive. I wished I could hold his hand and feel that he was because this didn't
seem real. I remembered my relief when he'd had a pulse. There hadn't been a feeling like
it I could remember. If I'd known then this would be the outcome, maybe I wouldn't have
been so happy about it. Truth was, I didn't have another thing I really wanted to say, so I
just sat there, staring. It was about 15 minutes later when I realised I had to leave. I had an
appointment with the hospital counsellor. Just routine, or so I hoped, therapy wasn't my
scene, especially not now. I lifted my head to say goodbye and saw the one thing I'd been
praying for above all others. Tears flowed unbidden from my eyes in unconfined joy.
"Oh God!"
I cried, slamming my hand on the call button.
"How long have I waited to see that?"
I sobbed overwhelmed. The nurses were in instantly. They too looked pleased.
"Back with us,"
The older nurse said, happiness undisguised in her tone. Happiness couldn't even cover
how I felt. For him it was only just beginning. But, I decided right there and then, I would
be there every step of the way.