Installment
Twenty-One
After
his birthday Taylor’s condition declined rapidly.
Shanna spent a lot of time with him, brining Jordan to see him as often
as she could, and each time she came home she cried; he was getting worse by
the day.
He barely ate anything, and they were hydrating as well as nourishing
him through an I.V.
When I had gone to see him, it was almost frightening to see him
looking that way again.
He was incredibly pale, and very weak, and I don’t think he could
have spoken above a whisper if he wanted to.
His heart monitor seemed to be beeping at an impossibly slow rate that
made me more than nervous, and his breathing was too slow for my comfort as
well.
For once I was allowed to see him by myself, mom and dad out in the
waiting room with Zoë and Mackenzie.
I pulled up a chair beside his bed, and he tiredly, forcefully lifted
his eyelids to look at me through glassy, dull eyes.
“Hey,”
I whispered, taking his hand, though it remained almost perfectly still in
mine.
“I’m
sorry,” he whispered.
“I don’t feel much… like talking today…”
“It’s
ok,” I replied, “just rest, okay?” He nodded barely, swallowing dryly,
closing his eyes again.
He looked so exhausted.
“Maybe I should go,” I said, gently running my fingers through his
soft, short blond hair.
“You need some rest – “
“Stay,”
he whispered, so quietly in fact, that I wasn’t sure that was what he said
at all the first time.
“What?”
“Stay,”
he whispered again.
“Please…”
“I’ll
stay,” I said softly, “if you want me to.”
“Please…
I don’t… don’t wanna be alone.” I could hear the tears threatening his
whispered voice.
It was quiet for a while, with no sound except the beeping, the
incredibly quiet sound of him breathing, and the sound of my breathing.
“Sing to me,” he whispered.
“I
can’t, Taylor,” I whispered.
He gave my hand a faint squeeze.
“Yes
you can,” he whispered back.
“Avie please…” the sound of tears in his voice was enough to make
me have to turn my head and close my eyes.
I almost lost it, and I knew I couldn’t do that in front of him; he
needed us to be strong for him now more than ever, because he couldn’t be
strong for himself.
“Spend
all your time waiting for that second chance, for a break that would make it
ok.
There’s always some reason to feel not good enough.
And it’s hard at end of day; I need some distraction, oh a beautiful
release.
Memories seep from my veins; let me be empty, oh weigh weightless and
maybe… I’ll find some peace tonight,” I sang softly to him, trying
to keep my voice in tune the way he had taught me; he was right, a long time
ago, a song really does sound better when there are real emotions behind it.
I felt my eyes burn with tears as I continued on softly.
“In the arms of the angel, fly away from here; from this dark cold
hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear.
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie; you’re in
the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort here…”
I
had never sung anyone to sleep in my life, nor comforted anyone with my
singing, and when that is what I did for Taylor, it touched me in a way that I
couldn’t explain.
He could have easily asked mom to sing for him, knowing she had the
voice of an angel, but he chose me instead…
Taylor and I shared something in those minutes I sang to him, as I
watched the painful comforted tears slide into his hairline.
My big brother was hurting, inside and out; he was in pain –
physical, emotional, and mental – and he was exhausted to his core.
I kissed his forehead gently before I left the room.
“Goodnight,
Avie,” he whispered as I reached the door.
“Sleep
sweet, Taylor.” I said softly.
“You
too…” I stood for a moment, just watching him, realizing what a wonder it
truly was just to see him breathing.
I
was emotionally and physically drained when mom and dad and I finally got
home.
I went upstairs after saying goodnight to both of my parents, and
showered, and then changed into some clean pajamas and climbed into bed.
The sheets were soft, and cool against my skin, soothing me in a way.
They acted as sort of a silent but tangible lullaby, urging me to lay
my head back against my cool pillows and close my eyes, and slip into a much
needed sleep.
I was no one to resist; I need sleep so badly, I craved it, and it
wasn’t long before I was nestled in the safety of my bed, thankful to have
shared what I did with Taylor that night, praying to God that he take care of
my brother.
And sometime during the night I felt someone’s cool lips press softly
against my forehead; I didn’t think anything of it then; I thought it was
just my father coming in to check on me like he did sometimes.
So I stirred a little, letting him know I felt it, and went back to
sleep.
It
had to be about ten after six in the morning when I heard my bedroom door
creaking open; I hadn’t heard the phone ring.
I opened my eyes tiredly to see who was waking me up that early in the
morning only to see mom making her way towards me, and I briefly wondered
where dad was if she was awake this early.
“Avie?”
She said softly.
“Yeah?”
My voice was thick with sleepiness.
She came and sat down on the edge of my bed.
“The
hospital just called…”
I
pushed myself up, feeling suddenly more awake but still groggy, sitting up and
rubbing my eyes.
“Is Taylor ok?”
I
watched her eyes glaze over with tears.
“Baby… he passed in his sleep during the night,” she said softly.
Everything seemed to just stop; my chest suddenly felt uncomfortably
tight, making it hard to breathe or speak.
“What?”
I whispered.
“He’s
gone, baby.” She whispered softly, her tears gliding down her cheeks
uninhibited.
I felt the tears burning my eyes, my throat constricting considerably.
I felt like I was dying inside; it hurt to breathe, to think.
Taylor died.
Taylor was gone…
“Mommy…”
I cried softly, “…no…”
“Oh
baby,” she cried softly, reaching out and pulling me into the safety of her
arms, but somehow… there was no safety this time, no comfort.
I knew she was trying, but she was grieving too, she was hurting, dying
inside.
She just lost her son, my brother…
“Oh
God, Mommy…” I cried into her shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.
There was nothing I could do now, maybe nothing I could have ever done
at all; Taylor was gone.
And suddenly, my whole world was crashing in on me.
I heard the incredible sob from down the hall and was suddenly aware of
where dad was: he had told Shanna.
And I could hear her sobbing.
“Shh…”
my mother tried to soothe, crying as well.
“It’s gonna be ok, baby; it’s gonna be ok…” I knew she was
saying those words without meaning them.
Nothing felt ok, nor did it feel like anything was ever going to feel
ok again…
When
I stepped up to the casket and looking at the lively picture of him that
rested on the closed lid, I felt my eyes burning with yet another ocean of
unshed tears; all of the members of the Hanson family had done their share of
crying that day, and yet no amount of crying seemed to be quite enough to make
up for the empty hole he left in us, a hole that would never be filled, or
covered up.
Taylor had taken a little piece of each of us with him; it was hard on
everyone, the most painful thing we had ever gone through in our lives.
Death was so final, and when it was time to burry him, I felt numb all
over.
Life was suddenly something that didn’t seem worth living, and all I
wanted to do was crawl into that tiny bunk on the bus and curl up next to by
brother, but instead, he was inside a closed box, and I couldn’t see or
touch him.
I
stepped up to the brand new polished head stone feeling somewhat numb, both
inside and out.
Can someone have so much grieve that it overflows and has nowhere to go
but back inside and seep back out again?
It seemed unseasonably cold, staring down at the freshly dug and filled
in grave, with the fresh white lilies resting on the large dirt mound.
Jordan
Taylor Hanson
“…Good
night, sweet prince
I
couldn’t force myself to eat, or sleep, or do anything but sit silently,
crying when the tears decided they could come again.
Shanna took the empty room on the other side of mine, unable to live
with being in his room, knowing they had been together in there, that he had
held her in there, held their baby in there; his presence was too much for her
to handle yet.
I couldn’t face the world, or anything that reminded me of him;
little things that I took for granted, little things I hadn’t associated
with him before were breaking me down.
All the years we spent fighting, unaware that this was the way it would
all end…
I never regretted anything more in my whole life than those years we
spent apart.
I had cried so much I didn’t think I would ever have enough tears to
cry again; my eyes burned from the salt, pink and puffy, my nose red and
running, my throat sore.
I just wanted to touch his hand, or hear his voice, or hear him laugh,
or just see him smile…
There was nothing but empty space, and images of him played themselves
over and over in my head, of when he was healthy, when he was young, things we
fought over, when he took me out for ice cream or to the park, when he was
sick, when he cried, the way he looked when he smiled and his eyes lit up…
it all hurt so much.
I had enough sense left to realize that I didn’t know how to let him
go; his memory was this… glowing ember, still burning so hot… and I
couldn’t touch it or I’d get burned, and I couldn’t reach out for him
because it was only empty air.
I was trapped between these two places, trapped the same as the rest of
the family, falling apart at the seams.
I knew I couldn’t be with him, and yet… that’s all any of us
wanted.
I was so incredibly exhausted in every sense of the word that I curled
up on my bed, squeezing my eyes shut, praying to God a prayer I knew was
useless, praying that he would just be in his bed when I opened my eyes again.
I knew he wouldn’t be; I knew that I would never walk down that
hallway and see him again, never hear him…
Every moment I tried to push myself through it, was just tearing me
apart; every moment was marked with these apparitions of his soul in my head;
I thought I was going to lose my mind.
I just wanted to be numb; I didn’t want to feel anymore because all I
could feel was this incredibly deep emptiness, and this unbelievable painful
grief.
I didn’t know how to handle it at all.
And nothing my mother or father did could help; nothing my brothers and
sisters did – there wasn’t enough comfort in the world to make any of us
stop hurting.
They say that “time heals all wounds” but I wasn’t so sure; every
minute that went by that we didn’t have him, we all seemed to hurt just that
much more. Everything
was eerily still and quiet; no one was really the same, and we all knew it was
going to be a long time before it all felt normal again.
It had only been a little over a week, and the wounds were still fresh,
and every memory was precious and salted those wounds a little more.
Through the unbelievable haze in my mind and incredible emotional pain,
I was somehow able to make my way into his room.
Like my dream, his few belongings he’d had on him when he was brought
to the hospital were in the plastic baggies on his desk, and the rest of his
things remained untouched.
I couldn’t stop the overflow of tears; it had only been one week, and
it felt like one year. The
whole room still smelled like him, was still occupied by the presence, the
essence of him.
I wanted to see him so badly…
Lined up on his desk were pictures of all of us kids, of mom and dad,
of him and I, or some combination of him and a sibling or two.
Those would never be enough; pictures, memories, things that used to
belong to him… they would never be enough.
They weren’t him, but… they were a part of him, and that at least
counted for something, but it just wasn’t enough.
Mom hadn’t had the heart to touch anything in there, but I needed to;
I needed something to try to fill the incredible empty space, even though I
knew in my heart nothing could ever truly could. I
stood and opened the desk drawer nearest to his bed, and my eyes immediately
filled with tears again.
There was a book, a journal of some kind, worn and obviously used.
There was an envelope taped to the front of the leather cover, and on
it in Taylor’s handwriting was ‘For Avery.’
Through blinding tears I pulled the journal out and detached what I
knew was a letter. Hey Avie.
I don’t really know how to start this, or even what to say, really.
If you’re reading this then I’m gone.
The only way you would’ve been able to find this is if I died and my
things are being sorted out. So I guess this is my last will and testament – really,
it’s my goodbye to you. These
passed ten months have been hell for me, but you’ve made it bearable – all
of you have. Make sure you tell
Shanna that she and Jordan meant the world to me, and I’ll never be too
far… I made a lot
of mistakes before all of this happened, and I’m glad you let me back in to
make up for them. I wish I could be there for you, to watch you become one of
the most beautiful women in the world, see you grow up and get married…
I’m sorry that I can’t. I
guess God had different plans for me. Do me a
favour, okay? Shanna’s going to
need all of you, and so will Jordan. Be
there for them, please. She loves
you all, and I know you all love her and the baby, and I just want you all to
lean on each other. Help her
raise Jordan to be good. My point was
to tell you that this book is yours now.
There are a lot of memories in that old leatherback.
I never used it all the
time, so that’s why it lasted me ten years.
There are some more things in there for you – I know you’ll want to
keep it, so, it’s yours. You
never have to share it with anyone if you don’t want to, but you can. I guess this
is the part where I tell you you’ll always be my little sister, and I’ll
always be your big brother. Just
remember me; remember I’m never really gone – no one’s ever really gone,
Avie; we all leave a little piece of ourselves behind. Love Always,
Taylor I
had to smile through my tears.
Yeah, he was right; he’d never really be gone.
There were little pieces of him in all our lives, in all of us.
And I opened the journal, beginning a journey through Taylor’s life,
picture by picture, page by page.