week 9 linked vignette (rewrite)

After the divorce, my daughter and I moved from Norridgewock back to the Brewer area. She was in 7th grade at the time and met a boy at the middle school. It wasn’t long before they started “going out” or dating as we adults call it. He was a good kid, I really liked him and ironically, I had gone to school with his parents as well. Small world.

8th grade, still dating, and prom right around the corner, she thinks she’s in love with him; first love, I’m sure she did fall for him. Who wouldn’t, dark haired, blue eyed boy and ever so popular.

High school begins for the freshman class. New friends, driver’s permits and footballs games; the life of a young teen… Varsity cheering, honors chorus and great grades, what more could a mother ask for.
***

Sophomore year, she’d cheered for him while he made touch downs and then the football parties seemed to get out of hand. That one time they showed up at my house drunk, I thought I would kill them all. Instead I put my fist through the wall. It seemed to scare some sense into them…for a little while anyway.

Junior year she was out of control. She didn’t make cheering, she didn’t make it home every night and the partying was getting out of hand. I was at my wits end and thought it would be best for her to move to her stepdads to finish out high school back in Norridgewock. Maybe he could do a better job handling her; maybe getting her away from this crowd would help. She would see her boyfriend, on weekends, supervised. She moved away, I cried for failing, I cried from the lonliness, I cried from the unknown.
***

He was supposed to pick her up on Friday, but ended up getting called to a job. He did construction, so you take the work when you can get it. Payday, and a few beers under his belt, he left the jobsite. He missed the curve and ran the truck into a phone pole then a tree, the final resting place. It took the ambulance crew hours to retrieve him from the wreckage with the Jaws of Life.

I was at my boyfriend’s house when the phone rang; it was one of my daughter’s girlfriends. The voice on the other line was hysterical; there had been an accident.

I desperately tried to calm her down to find out who she meant; my heart was racing and I suddenly felt like I was going to be sick.

Hours later, I finally got the call; mom, please meet me at the hospital in the ICU and can you come now. I was already there.
***

Countless yet familiar faces in the waiting room; some seated, others pacing in circles while many sobbed, holding one another…I felt helpless.

I went in to sit with her while she talked to him. He couldn’t hear her or feel her as she stroked his face, one side of his skull was crushed, and the doctors said he was brain dead.
***

After they pulled the plug, I brought her home with me. I lay with her night after night, while she sobbed and asked God why he didn’t take her instead. Her heart was shattered; she didn’t think she’d be able to go on without him; she didn’t WANT to go on without him.

Day’s turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years; it was a long, slow and agonizing healing process.
***

She has finally moved on….. his name engraved on her body, she says so she’ll never forget, his picture on her bedstand, just to be sure she doesn’t and her newborn sons middle name, to guarentee she won't.

We still go visit his grave on occasion and try to remember the good times and not the tragedy of a young life taken so soon.