Grandpa's Prayer, Page 3
Morris Rye
dreaming. I could feel someone giving me a foot massage, felt tickles on the bottom of my feet, and then the smell of nail polish! Aubrey must be here painting my nails, and I was hoping blue! She always made me feel so grown-up, I loved that. I could feel her warm breath on my toes, gently blowing on the wet nail polish.
I loved all my aunts and uncles, of course; they prayed the hardest, and helped Mom and Dad through some very bad days. They also helped with Grandpa, and let him know how I was doing. He was recovering in the local county hospital near his farm, and soon to be released. I knew he couldn't wait to see me, but also knew he felt guilty that he didn't make me buckle-up that day.
Because the floating me could look into peoples minds, I knew that Grandpa wasn't used to wearing seat belts. It was like being forced to do something that just didn't feel natural. My mom and dad grew up required to wear seat belts, so it was an easy habit for them. Grammy Jean and Grandpa were from an age when safety seemed to be forced upon them, and disliked being told what to do, what to eat, what to think. It's a very good thing to be buckled up, but they never got in the habit, especially Grandpa in his old truck.
Nine
The night after I had my nails done, Grammy Jean and Grandpa came together to visit for the first time. Although Grandpa could walk some, he relented to sitting in a wheelchair so he could come see me. I was still in between a coma and waking up, but I had opened my eyes once when Mama asked me to. When I felt Grandpa's rough hand in mine, I squeezed back and tried to open my eyes again, but it felt like they were glued shut. I wanted to say Mama and Daddy, and Grammy and Grandpa, but the words wouldn't come.
I could hear them all talking, happy to have me come this far, but knowing there was still a long road ahead. Mom and Dad were sitting on one side of me, Grammy on another, Grandpa was in the wheelchair at the foot of my bed. Grandpa noticed my freshly painted toenails, because I had kicked away the covers. I felt his rough hands tuck my feet back under the covers and heard him say this silent prayer.
"Dear God, please watch over our Emma and bring her back to us. She has her whole life ahead of her! She's such a beautiful little girl, I'm so sorry for what happened, I didn't think anything could go so wrong, so quickly. God, if you bring her back to us, I will be the best grandpa that ever lived, I'll even paint my toenails blue!"
I pictured Grandpa trying to paint his own toenails, and ending up making a mess! Maybe I'd have to teach him how to do it, now wouldn't that be fun! I couldn't ask for a better grandpa and sincerely don't blame him for what happened that day. It was an accident, we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. If that bird would have hit a second or so sooner or later, we would have only ran off onto the gravel shoulder.
Ten
The next week I became more and more aware of the world around me. The floating me was gone, well not really gone, just folded back into me. At first, it was just opening my eyes that got everyone excited. I wanted to talk, but there was still a tube down my throat. I had some surgery that needed to be done soon, so they'd take the tube out after that.
Mom and Dad explained to me what happened, and that Grandpa was going to be ok. They told me what was going to happen next, and that I'd be ok too. The doctors would stop by twice a day to check on me. They were impressed by my progress, although I was having problems moving my left arm and leg.
One of the flying tools ripped a patch of skin off my back and they had to fix that. They also had to reset my broken wrist and finger, and put a real cast on my right elbow. Before, when I was in a coma, I wasn't feeling much of anything, but now I was getting scared and wanted to go home. Even though I couldn't tell Mom I was worried, she knew it, and told me everything would be ok. Everyone just wanted to help me get better, which made sense to me, but I still missed my own bed.
A day after the surgery, they took out the tube in my throat. That was a big improvement for me, but my throat was sore for several more days. One day, when Mama was just about to leave for the day, I squeaked out "Mama, I love you". She rushed back over and we both cried. The next day I told Daddy I loved him too, and he even cried. Words didn't flow out of me like before; I had to think them out.
There's a favorite movie I like, and they'd play it for me whenever I wanted. I'd talk along in my head, what the actors were about to say, and it made me feel like being home. When I wanted to talk, it was different, like starting to learn over, but every day I'd learn more and more.
I could stick out my tongue, and say first names of people that visited me. I could move around a bit in bed, but my left side was slow to come around. They took out the tube attached to the hole in my skull. In 4 weeks I had come a long way, and about to be transferred to the 5th floor.
Eleven
My room on the 5th floor was bigger, with windows, so I can tell night and day again. I started to eat again, first some pudding and juice, but only a taste here and there. I talked to Grandpa, and my aunts Tara and Aubrey on the phone, mostly listening, but did tell them,
“I love you.”
Mom is showing me pictures of people, and I can say most of their names!
I have a physical therapy nurse come in to help me bend my legs and arms. It hurts sometimes, but she tells me it will help get me better, so I do it. I have some surgery that needs to be done on my back, and also re-fix my wrist and pinky finger. I had some ice cream from my Aunt Sherrie. That tasted good! Aubrey repainted my nails blue again, all the nurses commented about my pretty feet!
They are trying to help me walk again, but it’s tough. Every day I try to do something new. One of the 5th floor nurses teased me that the boy in room 518 likes me, so I better start walking soon. I teased her back, stuck out my tongue, and thumbs down about having a boyfriend right now! We both laughed (which felt awesome).
In all, I was in the hospital for 7 weeks. The day I got to go home was the greatest day in my life. Even though I wanted to walk, I was wheeled out to our minivan. The sun was full and bright, the skies my favorite color, blue! I felt the cold October air on my face and smiled, I kept looking out the window and took in everything I could as we drove home.
It was great to finally be home, to see my little brother Zack. They repainted my bedroom just like I dreamed of, and it was full of stuffed animals, although my favorite was still a well-worn brown and white rabbit. I had to go back to the hospital many times for checkups. There were daily trips to the physical therapist. Some days I didn’t want to go, but Mom always talked me into it.
I have love for all the people who helped to put me back together. I will always remember nurse Jenny, the one who believed in me and knew I wasn't dead inside my head. I'm thinking I may want to become a nurse someday, but sometimes think maybe a carpenter like my Grandpa. Each of them fixes things, and can take a wreck of a person, or a house, and bring it back to life.
They had a big benefit for my family and me, Uncle Harry made the best chicken booyah, and Subway brought in sandwiches. There were raffles, and somehow I ended up with a signed NFL football. Thank you to everyone who helped or donated. I’m just a little girl, but now know how much everyone loves me, that makes the hard steps easier, and the long road ahead shorter. Thank you to everyone, for your love and prayers.
Twelve
I’m older now, in my twenties. The accident seems like many lifetimes ago, but it’s always with me. When a beautiful vase gets broken, sometimes it can be glued back together again. Well... I was glued back together again by talented doctors, loving nurses, and by the love and prayers of family and friends. Maybe you’ll see where I was glued back together, and maybe you won’t. There were some down days, when I didn’t feel as perfect as I wanted to be, but I always felt loved.
I’m writing this, just in case the younger me is worried about anything. It was my wedding day a couple days ago, and the church was full of people. I was in the church’s small anteroom adjusting my dress. I looked in the full-length mirror, and looked myself over, then thought back about all I wen
t through to get here. I felt so grateful I met the man of my dreams, and I truly did look beautiful! I wasn’t sure if that was even me in the mirror, so I reached out and touched the glass.
I could walk down the isle and have a full life. I could do or become anything I dreamed of. I know that others in my shoes weren’t so lucky. Accidents happen every day, my heart breaks whenever I hear of fatal wrecks. I wonder why I survived and they didn’t. I’m just happy that the glue stuck.
When the processional music started, I walked over to the swinging church doors, and there stood Grandpa, all dressed up in a tuxedo. He insisted a couple days earlier that we both go to the mall, get a pedicure, and have our toenails painted blue. I was surprised how calm and accepting he was at the salon, like he had been there before. We shared a lingering smile, and then he passed me to my dad. A moment that is etched in my soul!
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but know that what I went through made me who I am. I’m humbled by all that was taken, and given back to me. I’m proud of that little girl who worked so hard to become the me I am now. I do somehow know that there are angels watching over us, but that we are responsible for what we do (or don’t do).
Buckle-up, but
I loved all my aunts and uncles, of course; they prayed the hardest, and helped Mom and Dad through some very bad days. They also helped with Grandpa, and let him know how I was doing. He was recovering in the local county hospital near his farm, and soon to be released. I knew he couldn't wait to see me, but also knew he felt guilty that he didn't make me buckle-up that day.
Because the floating me could look into peoples minds, I knew that Grandpa wasn't used to wearing seat belts. It was like being forced to do something that just didn't feel natural. My mom and dad grew up required to wear seat belts, so it was an easy habit for them. Grammy Jean and Grandpa were from an age when safety seemed to be forced upon them, and disliked being told what to do, what to eat, what to think. It's a very good thing to be buckled up, but they never got in the habit, especially Grandpa in his old truck.
Nine
The night after I had my nails done, Grammy Jean and Grandpa came together to visit for the first time. Although Grandpa could walk some, he relented to sitting in a wheelchair so he could come see me. I was still in between a coma and waking up, but I had opened my eyes once when Mama asked me to. When I felt Grandpa's rough hand in mine, I squeezed back and tried to open my eyes again, but it felt like they were glued shut. I wanted to say Mama and Daddy, and Grammy and Grandpa, but the words wouldn't come.
I could hear them all talking, happy to have me come this far, but knowing there was still a long road ahead. Mom and Dad were sitting on one side of me, Grammy on another, Grandpa was in the wheelchair at the foot of my bed. Grandpa noticed my freshly painted toenails, because I had kicked away the covers. I felt his rough hands tuck my feet back under the covers and heard him say this silent prayer.
"Dear God, please watch over our Emma and bring her back to us. She has her whole life ahead of her! She's such a beautiful little girl, I'm so sorry for what happened, I didn't think anything could go so wrong, so quickly. God, if you bring her back to us, I will be the best grandpa that ever lived, I'll even paint my toenails blue!"
I pictured Grandpa trying to paint his own toenails, and ending up making a mess! Maybe I'd have to teach him how to do it, now wouldn't that be fun! I couldn't ask for a better grandpa and sincerely don't blame him for what happened that day. It was an accident, we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. If that bird would have hit a second or so sooner or later, we would have only ran off onto the gravel shoulder.
Ten
The next week I became more and more aware of the world around me. The floating me was gone, well not really gone, just folded back into me. At first, it was just opening my eyes that got everyone excited. I wanted to talk, but there was still a tube down my throat. I had some surgery that needed to be done soon, so they'd take the tube out after that.
Mom and Dad explained to me what happened, and that Grandpa was going to be ok. They told me what was going to happen next, and that I'd be ok too. The doctors would stop by twice a day to check on me. They were impressed by my progress, although I was having problems moving my left arm and leg.
One of the flying tools ripped a patch of skin off my back and they had to fix that. They also had to reset my broken wrist and finger, and put a real cast on my right elbow. Before, when I was in a coma, I wasn't feeling much of anything, but now I was getting scared and wanted to go home. Even though I couldn't tell Mom I was worried, she knew it, and told me everything would be ok. Everyone just wanted to help me get better, which made sense to me, but I still missed my own bed.
A day after the surgery, they took out the tube in my throat. That was a big improvement for me, but my throat was sore for several more days. One day, when Mama was just about to leave for the day, I squeaked out "Mama, I love you". She rushed back over and we both cried. The next day I told Daddy I loved him too, and he even cried. Words didn't flow out of me like before; I had to think them out.
There's a favorite movie I like, and they'd play it for me whenever I wanted. I'd talk along in my head, what the actors were about to say, and it made me feel like being home. When I wanted to talk, it was different, like starting to learn over, but every day I'd learn more and more.
I could stick out my tongue, and say first names of people that visited me. I could move around a bit in bed, but my left side was slow to come around. They took out the tube attached to the hole in my skull. In 4 weeks I had come a long way, and about to be transferred to the 5th floor.
Eleven
My room on the 5th floor was bigger, with windows, so I can tell night and day again. I started to eat again, first some pudding and juice, but only a taste here and there. I talked to Grandpa, and my aunts Tara and Aubrey on the phone, mostly listening, but did tell them,
“I love you.”
Mom is showing me pictures of people, and I can say most of their names!
I have a physical therapy nurse come in to help me bend my legs and arms. It hurts sometimes, but she tells me it will help get me better, so I do it. I have some surgery that needs to be done on my back, and also re-fix my wrist and pinky finger. I had some ice cream from my Aunt Sherrie. That tasted good! Aubrey repainted my nails blue again, all the nurses commented about my pretty feet!
They are trying to help me walk again, but it’s tough. Every day I try to do something new. One of the 5th floor nurses teased me that the boy in room 518 likes me, so I better start walking soon. I teased her back, stuck out my tongue, and thumbs down about having a boyfriend right now! We both laughed (which felt awesome).
In all, I was in the hospital for 7 weeks. The day I got to go home was the greatest day in my life. Even though I wanted to walk, I was wheeled out to our minivan. The sun was full and bright, the skies my favorite color, blue! I felt the cold October air on my face and smiled, I kept looking out the window and took in everything I could as we drove home.
It was great to finally be home, to see my little brother Zack. They repainted my bedroom just like I dreamed of, and it was full of stuffed animals, although my favorite was still a well-worn brown and white rabbit. I had to go back to the hospital many times for checkups. There were daily trips to the physical therapist. Some days I didn’t want to go, but Mom always talked me into it.
I have love for all the people who helped to put me back together. I will always remember nurse Jenny, the one who believed in me and knew I wasn't dead inside my head. I'm thinking I may want to become a nurse someday, but sometimes think maybe a carpenter like my Grandpa. Each of them fixes things, and can take a wreck of a person, or a house, and bring it back to life.
They had a big benefit for my family and me, Uncle Harry made the best chicken booyah, and Subway brought in sandwiches. There were raffles, and somehow I ended up with a signed NFL football. Thank you to everyone who helped or donated. I’m just a little girl, but now know how much everyone loves me, that makes the hard steps easier, and the long road ahead shorter. Thank you to everyone, for your love and prayers.
Twelve
I’m older now, in my twenties. The accident seems like many lifetimes ago, but it’s always with me. When a beautiful vase gets broken, sometimes it can be glued back together again. Well... I was glued back together again by talented doctors, loving nurses, and by the love and prayers of family and friends. Maybe you’ll see where I was glued back together, and maybe you won’t. There were some down days, when I didn’t feel as perfect as I wanted to be, but I always felt loved.
I’m writing this, just in case the younger me is worried about anything. It was my wedding day a couple days ago, and the church was full of people. I was in the church’s small anteroom adjusting my dress. I looked in the full-length mirror, and looked myself over, then thought back about all I wen
t through to get here. I felt so grateful I met the man of my dreams, and I truly did look beautiful! I wasn’t sure if that was even me in the mirror, so I reached out and touched the glass.
I could walk down the isle and have a full life. I could do or become anything I dreamed of. I know that others in my shoes weren’t so lucky. Accidents happen every day, my heart breaks whenever I hear of fatal wrecks. I wonder why I survived and they didn’t. I’m just happy that the glue stuck.
When the processional music started, I walked over to the swinging church doors, and there stood Grandpa, all dressed up in a tuxedo. He insisted a couple days earlier that we both go to the mall, get a pedicure, and have our toenails painted blue. I was surprised how calm and accepting he was at the salon, like he had been there before. We shared a lingering smile, and then he passed me to my dad. A moment that is etched in my soul!
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but know that what I went through made me who I am. I’m humbled by all that was taken, and given back to me. I’m proud of that little girl who worked so hard to become the me I am now. I do somehow know that there are angels watching over us, but that we are responsible for what we do (or don’t do).
Buckle-up, but
