This is hopefully the last time I will talk about this in such detail. I felt the need to put that weekend into words. I'm hoping it will help me.
December 9th. I had just finished getting the dogs into their crate for the night. It was late, after 10, and I liked to go to bed early because 6 am always came too soon. Besides, the next day was Friday, I had plans to spend time with Sam, I figured hanging at her place and drinking away our sorrows was the best way to repair the shambles of a friendship that was left after the whole John debacle. I didn't want to be exhausted for that. I heard laughter and footsteps coming down the hall. There was a knock on the door, and there was Jess, eyes laughing, a glass of wine in her hand.
"You've got to try this!! It's so good!"
So I did, and it was, and I asked her what it was. She said it was a wine she got from Homegrown and promised me to bring some home the next day after work. I gave her $20 and watched her dance back down the hall. I closed the door.
That was the last time I saw her.
Friday came and went without incident. I went over to Sam's and watched Sailor Moon and drank white wine sangria. I drank too much, felt awful, and drove home at 4 am. At approximately the same time,Jess was having a seizure, accelerating into a brick wall, metal streetlight, and finally coming to a stop in a ditch. While I was crawling into my bed, she was being rushed to the hospital by EMTs who were trying to figure out who she was.
It wasn't until 9:30 that I even knew anything was wrong. Sitting in the waiting room at my car dealer, waiting for my car's oil to be changed, Mary called to tell me that Jess had been in a bad accident. She told me to come to the hospital as soon a s I could.
At that point I started making the rounds of phone calls. Letting my dad know I might not make it to the show that night, depending on how the situation was, telling my mom what was going on. I didn't know what to expect. Broken bones, painful recuperation, but nothing really prepared me for what it actually was.
Matt came down and met me at the hospital, explaining what had happened. Jess had hit her head, but she'd be fine. They had taken a part of her skill out to relieve the pressure on her brain and to insert a monitor. By the time I got upstairs to where Mary was waiting, I was convinced Jess would be up and fine in a few days, joking about the whole experience and fuming over the loss of her brand new car.
Mary's face said differently. She and I walked down to get coffee from the lobby and she told me what the doctor's had told Jess's family.
Jess's body was fine. A few bruises and scrapes from the impact, but no broken bones, no serious problems of any kind. Her brain was a different story. She had severe damage to the front cortex and there was no brain activity. She was hooked up to machines to keep her going. The odds of her coming out of it unscathed were minuscule, if she came out of it at all.
At that point I couldn't stop the tears. It was a constant stream for what felt like hours, between racking sobs and slow tearing up (which was the best I could do to control myself in front of her already grieving family). I finally drove home, my Dad came and picked me up to take me back to Dresher for the weekend. There wasn't anything I could do to help her now, and the doctor's didn't know how long it would take to know if she would pull through.
That night I went to "A Christmas Carol," while Mary paced fitfully around the hospital waiting area. I slept in a comfortable bed while she slept on a floor for a few brief hours. Sunday I wanted to go home but Dad advised against it, since I had no other mode of transportation, I stayed. I should have fought him on it, I should have been home. Monday he dropped me off at work. After lunch I asked Mary if there was any news. 30 seconds later I got a phone call.
Jess hadn't pulled through. She had started shutting down her own organs. They had tried everything to save her, but were now in surgery, harvesting her organs to donate to patients in need. Her death saved 7 people's lives.
I sank to the ground out side of work, crying hysterically. One of the girls I work with brought me my coat and a box of tissues. My boss came out and tried to comfort me and told me to take all the time I needed, just to let her know. I didn't want to go back to Dad's, I didn't want to go back to my house, so full of what was left of her and so full of loss. Sam drove me back to Delaware, where I packed and waited for my mom to drive down to Bethany.
I spent the next two days drinking, eating, and ignoring a pain that I had no idea how to deal with and could not comprehend. I drove back up on Wednesday, went back to work on Thursday, the viewing was Sunday and the funeral Monday. For a week solid afterwards, I was haunted by the feeling that she was outside my door, staring, questioning, demanding to know why I hadn't been there. Why I hadn't been there for Mary, how could I have been so selfish.
It still haunts me, that image. Her standing at my door, demanding why, if I loved her at all, did I not stay. And if I didn't love her, then why didn't I love Mary enough to see that she needed me to be here?
I want you to forgive me, Jess. I want to know you understand that I didn't know what to do, my brain stopped working logically and just shut off. I want you to know how much I loved you and how cheated I feel at not being able to know you better. For being robbed of such an incredible person.
I'll always miss you.
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