A Widow’s story: Her Heartache….

Here in the silence and empty room a single tear rolled down my face.  I didn’t try to wipe it away but the battle to remain calm, understandable, and rational was becoming futile in my head.  I sat there patiently and defenselessly just waiting as the clock continued to tick tock on the wall.  The aroma was filled with wet-dump paint and the smell of blood in the tainted air.  As I sat there defenselessly I tried not to be brooding and bleak as I silently tried to take exhale and inhale for a breath.  I took in my surroundings and struggled for words to say to this woman who was an emotional wreck.  This woman stood there in front of me, frozen with watery tears staining her rosy cheeks as her light complexion of her pale skin begin to turn an ice cold. She appeared to be 5’5 with long silky flaxen blonde hair.  Her eyes were like a cat, hazel colored as she was average height with slim hips and long legs.

As I stood there paralyzed in my body, I was not totally unfamiliar with this country and its citizens, as I patiently sat in the overcrowded hospital room in Mooresville, North Carolina.  I had been in Mooresville for seven months already helping out my mother and her family because my grandmother was in hospice care.  I had become well acquainted with some of my family members by this time.  I had bonded with them, played with their children, walked the very streets in their homes and even swapped amazing stories with them.  However nothing at all could have anticipated me for that endless silence of that hospital room.  It was an enormous room, approximately 60 feet across and 25 feet wide.  It was heavily crowded with hard cement bricks and hard marble floors just glistening as the light shines off the floors.  In the waiting area were metal benches clasped between file desks and family members and dedicated nurses and doctors.  The sound of the endless cries of women and children quietly echoed off through the hardened ceilings and thin linings of the walls.

The woman who stood across from me I couldn’t recognize because she was a stranger to me. She was clinging onto her children for desperate attempt to silence and end her unstoppable agony and sudden loss of pain.  The woman had two small children a petite boy with curly short brown hair and perplexing hazel eyes and a tiny girl with silky sandy blonde hair with sparkling brown eyes.  Her children’s faces were showed faint as they stared at their mother into an empty room.  As I looked into the faces of her children their pain on their faces were distraught as though they were still in shock.

Their body language was calling off like a radar as I could see the stillness and sorrow in their precious innocent eyes.  The woman stood there bleak and paralyzed just standing in that empty room looking on the bed that laid nothing but empty sheets and pillows.  I could see she was using that abandoned room as recovery to hide and conceal her pain.  Her feline eyes were filled with pain and sadness but her heart was slowly breaking into pieces as she just slowly begins to walk out of that hollow room.  The woman walked out the room as her children came running to her in such ease wishing that the pain they are feeling was just a dream.

Finally she looked up at me and said,” My name is Lisa Taylor and these are my children Julian Matthew Taylor, III and Lana Tiffany Taylor.  She hugged her children with tender care and love that you could see in her feline eyes.  Lisa said to me, “Have you ever lost someone you loved?”  I replied back, “Yes I have, you never get over losing someone you love.”  Her eyes begin to bust into pools of water as they rushed flowing down her rosy cheeks.  She told me she felt her heart just died inside as someone just completely ripped it apart.

The woman could barely keep herself together as she held her children closely in her arms.  She told me her husband was named Julian Matthew Taylor, Jr a police officer of Mooresville Police Department.  She said he was battling lung cancer all his life.  As I listened to her heart felt story all I could see was the pain and suffering in this woman’s eyes.  Not only was she hurting but her children Julian and Lana as well they’re hearts were breaking into little pieces.

I felt completely helpless as I tried to console Lisa while she told me her story.  She was a middle age woman with two young children no older than 10 years old.  However despite her age she looked doleful.  Her cat like eyes were strained with red, her nose turned bright reddish-orange as her hands continued to shake immensely by anxiety.  This woman lived a completely different life than I did.

Her husband was just like any other man you would meet.  He was a father, husband, friend, and son; he was a part of their family.  He was serving in the line of duty trying to protect people from getting hurt.  Looking at this woman you wouldn’t think there was a single shred of a connection between us.  But there was, I felt drawn to her pain, her agony and the heart felt loss of someone she loved and cherish dearly. Lisa’s pain was suffering, but not only her pain but her children’s agony and suffering. They lost their father and hero someone they looked up too.

I walked Lisa and her children into the waiting room and sat down beside her and held her and her children until they couldn’t cry anymore.  Her whole life was cut short because she lost her partner, her best friend, and most importantly her husband.  There were no words of condolence I could offer.  I couldn’t bring back her husband or her children’s father.  All I could give was my hand and ears of comfort and support.  She looked at me with her deep diluted feline eyes as thou it seemed that was all she needed someone outside of her everyday life listening to her remarkable story.  She wanted someone to listen to her story and offer her reassurance that her journey and amazing heart felt story is worth hearing.

What you don’t know is that her story sets her apart from the other millions of people in this world today.  Her story has something to offer for those who are fighting for something to value, a life lesson, reminders, and a purpose.  Her story reminds me of the pride, determination, and the ability to fight for a cause that we call life.  Her story is more about a man who has left the force behind as he gave his life to protect and serve.

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