I May Have Watched A Man Die Last Night

Around 9 p.m. last night my husband, stepdaughter and I went to a big box hardware store.  We were looking for a new back door, some water filters and a new bathroom cabinet.

As we were walking into the store we heard a guy yelling for help. “Call 911.  Call  911.  My dad collapsed.”

As we moved closer I saw a older man lying on the ground and his son knelt over him.  “Dad!  Dad!” He said shaking him.

The man wasn’t breathing.

“Start CPR,” The woman on the phone calmly said.

Oh shit I thought to myself as I watched the son perform CPR.  He counted. One, Two, Three, Four.  Nothing.

I stood there watching.  Helpless.

The man started breathing.  He opened his eyes a little and started moaning.

The son stopped.

The man stopped breathing.

“Start CPR again,” the woman said.   I assumed she was on phone with the 911 operator.

The son started.  “Don’t do this to me, Dad.  Don’t do this to me.” He voice cracked as he pushed on his dad’s chest.  “One.  Two.  Three.  Four.”

Tears threatened to overflow, but I pushed them back.  Crying wouldn’t help the situation now.

My husband ran in the store to see if there was a defibrillator.  He came back empty handed.

The man started to breath again.  He started to moan.  He opened his eyes a little.  I started to have a little hope.

“Is there a pulse?”

My husband knelt down and grabbed his wrist.  “Faintly.”

“What is his name?” I asked.  I was standing next to my husband.  I didn’t know why I asked this.  I wanted to hold the man’s hand and talk to him.  I wanted to tell him everything was going to be ok.  Even though there was a chance it wasn’t.

The son didn’t answer.

The man stopped breathing.

The son started CPR again.

I prayed that the ambulance would come soon.

“Does anyone know CPR?”  The lady talking on the phone asked.  “We need a replacement.  He’s getting tired.”

I ran to the store.  “Does anyone know CPR?”  I yelled.  Not one hand went up.  Fuck!  A young store employee, probably nineteen, followed me outside.  “I know CPR, but I’ve never had to use it.” Another employee came running out.  “I know CPR.”

He took over  Another stop and start.

The EMT’s came.  They put an oxygen mask on him.

How many times can he start breathing and stop breathing?

I looked around for his son.  I didn’t see him.

The ambulance came.  They hooked him up.  The paramedics jolted him.

“Come on dude.  Breathe.” I said quietly.  I know dude wasn’t the appropriate term, but I just spent all day shopping with my sixteen and a half year old niece who calls everybody dude.

He started breathing.  The EMT’s rolled him on his side and put a board behind his back so they could move him onto the stretcher.  I knew one of the EMT’s.  He started working at my place of employment a couple of months ago.  I always wondering why he carried a walkie talkie type radio.  Now I knew why.

The man stopped breathing.  Another jolt.  I winced.  You see it on a tv show, but you know it’s fake.  This was real.

A car pulled up.  A woman walked to the son holding a little boy.  The women started to rub the sons back.  The man grabbed his son and held him tight.  My heart broke again.

The man started breathing.  They moved him onto the stretcher and rolled him toward the ambulance.

He stomach wasn’t moving up and down.

He wasn’t breathing.

No one was moving with a sense of urgency.  They didn’t put him in the ambulance and drive away in a hurry.

Oh God.  Was he dead?  I kept waiting for the EMT’s to call the time.  Time of death is 9:37.  They probably didn’t do that at the scene.  I wanted to go and hold his hand.  I wanted to tell him if it was his time to die it was ok.  I wanted his soul to know that someone was with him.  But I didn’t.  I didn’t think it was my place.

I remember the morning my dad died.  I woke up at two a.m.  In my head I told my dad that is was ok for him to die.  My sister, my brothers and I would take care of my mom.  I understood he had another journey to take.  He died four hours later.

“Let’s go,” My husband said.  We started walking toward the store.  My husband looked back.  I couldn’t.  Instead I said a prayer.  I prayed for God to watch over the man and his family.

I wonederd if I would have known CPR would I have been able to help or what it the man’s turn to die?  I believe when your name is one the big chalkboard in the sky your time on Earth is up.  End. Of. Your. Story.

I walked through the store in a daze.  I couldn’t believe what I just witnessed.  I never saw anyone die, but I just may have.

I wanted to gather everyone I love and hold them tight.  I wanted to tell them to never stop breathing.  I want die first so I don’t have to go through the pain of losing a loved one.

As I laid in bed this morning I wondered if the man was fighting with God during the starts and stops of his breathing.  When he started breathing was he telling God that he wanted to live and when he stopped breathing God was patiently explaining to him that this was the next part of his journey until the man finally understood and stopped fighting.

I wondered if there were angels at the scene to carry his soul to Heaven or wherever it was going to next?   What does a soul look like?  I think of it was a circle of white light.  I didn’t notice any white light going up toward Heaven.  Maybe it was too early.  Maybe I’m totally wrong about what a soul looks like.

I wonder what goes on on the other side when they expect a new soul to come over.  We have a funeral on earth to say good-bye and to remember their life, but what happens on the the other side?  Do family and friends greet them?  Or does their favorite person greet them and help prepare their soul to cross over?

I know I’m probably ahead of myself.  I don’t know if the man died or not.  Him dying is just my assumption from what I saw at the scene.  I hope I’m wrong.

I think I’m still in shock this morning.  I miss my dad terribly.  I keep thinking of the son of the man and sending him pink light, hugs and love.  Can you imagine trying to save your dad like that?  Or possibly dying lying in the parking lot of a big box hardware store?

The whole situation is heartbreaking.

Please pray for the man and his family today.

I will be.





Another Gentle Push

I was in the Karma and Luck store (Love Love Love this store!!!) in Harrah’s hotel in Las Vegas last week.  It’s a very cool store that sells stones and stone jewelry.  I bought three stones — rose quartz, amethyst and camelian.  Rose quartz promotes universal love.  Amethyst promotes health and beauty.  Camelian promotes sensuality, manifestation and creativity.  I’ve been told to put these stones in my purse or pants pocket, under my pillow or on my desk.   It works.  When I put the abundance rock in my pocket I found a $50 at the mini mart, later on that week I found a $20 on the floor at work and I won $100 on a lottery ticket.

I felt totally at home in this store.  I love this stuff.  The power of stones, karma, dreams, past lives.  I have always been drawn to this kind of stuff ever since I was a little kid.   As I walked about of the store and down the hall a little voice in my head said to me “You’re not doing what you’re suppose to be doing.  You’re not fulfilling your purpose.” This wasn’t the first time I’ve heard this voice.  In the past I have either ignored the voice or pushed it down.  Deep in my heart I know I’m not doing what I’m suppose to be doing, but bills need to be paid and things need to get done.  I know that my calling and where I am at in my life are on totally different ends of the spectrum, but I’m scared to bring them closer together.

As I continued walking I decided that I’m going to listen to that voice.  I’m going to own who I am today and I’m going to do something every day to get closer to my calling every day.  I know…..easier said than done.

How did my life get so out of whack?  I think it’s because I don’t listen to myself.  I don’t know that part of myself.  I don’t take the time to get to know that part of myself.  I don’t make time for that part of myself.  The one thing I do know is that I have to get to know that part of myself.

This trip to Vegas has been very eye opening for me.  It’s been different.  My husband brought one of his coworkers along.  It was his first time to Vegas.  While the guys bonded (no alcohol involved) I was able to spend time with myself.  I loved that.

When we flew out early Tuesday morning I wrote for an hour on the plane while they watched tv.  After we landed I shared with James some of my favorite things about Vegas — the botanical gardens and the water show at the Bellagio hotel,  playing the Hangover slot machine, shopping at The Dragon’s Lair at the Excalibur hotel, watching the gondolas at the Venetian Hotel and gambling at Treasure Island hotel.  This got me thinking…..I do my favorite things in Vegas, but I can’t remember the last time I did one of my favorite things at home.  Wait.  I did get a pedicure before my trip.  I get so caught up in the day to day stuff that I forget about my favorite things or what they even are.  How is possible that I can’t even tell you what five of my favorite things are right now?  That’s sad.

On Thursday morning around 9 a.m. we went to the Barrett Jackson car auction.  (another one of my favorite things I love to watch on tv) at Mandalin Bay Hotel.  After walking around for three hours, I left the guys and went off on my own.  I did some shopping, talked to my mom, wrote for an hour and then met up with the guys for supper.

On Friday morning we went to the memorial site of the victims of the shooting.  I was ok until I stood in front of the 1st cross and I looked down the row of fifty eight crosses.  I cried.  All of these people lost their lives around the same time.  It was the first time I had been to something like this.  I was amazed at the notes from family and friends, the poems, balloons, candles and all of the other trinkets people left.  It was moving.  I could feel how much the 58 people were loved.  Seeing something like this definitely puts things in perspective.

It made me realize that I need to think about how I’m going to put more of the me I keep hidden inside of me and my favorite things into my life.  I need to share this part of myself with others and put it into my writing.  I need to start to getting comfortable with that part of myself.  I’m not sure how I’m going to do that yet, but I’m going to try.

I definitely learned a lot about myself during my vacation.  I’m grateful my husband had James along so I could spend some time by myself and let things come to the surface.

It was a another gentle push to become more of the me I’m suppose to be.

Thank you, God.

Sometimes It Sucks To Be A Responsible Adult

Saturday night I woke up at 2:30 am thinking about if I should gather important papers in case something happens to us on our upcoming trip.   I’m not trying to be morbid or anything.  I just like to be organized.  I know sometimes I can be too organized, but I don’t think this is one of those times.

I was awake for an hour before stuff stopped rolling around in my head.   I know I would have to gather bank statements, life insurance, etc.   If I did leave out papers they would be mine because Steve’s sister knows where all of his papers are.   I never thought about doing this before so this is kinda weird.  Should I gather documents or shouldn’t I?  I doubt if anything is going to happen to me, but you never know and I always like to be on the safe side.  If I did, where would I leave the manilla envelope?  My mom will be bringing in the mail so I don’t want to leave it on the kitchen table and freak her out.  My brother will be staying at the house so I don’t want to leave it on the coffee table or anything and freak him out.  On second thought he probably wouldn’t notice because he’d be too busy watching tv (he doesn’t have cable at his house).

Maybe that’s why I was blah on Sunday.  Maybe the shooting in Vegas bothered me more than I realized.  It sure has made me think about a lot of things.  My death.  Steve’s death.  Do we have everything we need in writing?  We had our wills done earlier this year, but we still have to decide on burial.  I want to be cremated and buried in the same cemetery my dad, my dad’s parents and two of my cousins are in and Steve doesn’t know.  I know I want to be buried with my husband.  We have to discuss this further and come to some decision.

My mom and I have talked about my wishes so she kinda knows about what I want and my documents are easy to find, but will she think so?  I think that thinking and preparing for death is what we have to do in the second half of our life.  As unpleasant as that sounds, it’s what we have to do.  Be responsible and have the details figured out.  I don’t think it’s fair to leave this to our loved ones we leave behind to decided what we should have decided for ourselves.      The shooting has made me think of how short and precious life is, how the unimaginable can happen in a heartbeat and how we should be somewhat prepared.

Are we ever prepared to die unexpectedly?  I don’t think so.  I’ve had a good life.  If I died tomorrow I would have some regrets.  One of them is that I didn’t fulfill my writing dream yet.  I would like to get my writing published before I die, but I believe in reincarnation and maybe I have done as much as I need to do in this lifetime, but that is another post.  Lately everything is another post.   I know I don’t want to die before I realize my writing dream.  Am I ready to die?  No, but I know that decision isn’t up to me.

Maybe I’ll just write a letter to my niece and tell her how I feel.  I would hate for something to happen and not have written a letter before hand.  She’s almost sixteen and hasn’t had a good life death wise. Her uncle committed suicide ten years ago.  Two of her very good friends committed suicide — one was two years ago and the other was six months ago.  I try to be as involved in her life as I can be.  She lives about forty five minutes away from me and I worry about her.  I don’t get to see her nearly enough.  I do call her and text her.  She would be the only one I would write a letter to.  I love her and I want her to know how much I love her and why.  In fact, I think I wrote a post about this awhile ago.  I told her to read it, but I don’t think she did.

This is definitely not the post I thought I’d write today and it’s probably not the post you thought you would be reading.

“That’s life, kid.  People die.”  My dad used to tell me this.  I can hear his voice clearly in my head.

I’ll let you know what I decide.