-Mel Cosgrove from How to Survive the Loss of a Love
When I was five I remember watching my older brother being drug to death. I remember the night my mother left and never came back. I remember everything. The saddness, the tears, the pain, but most of all the deaths. I thought I would never live through so much pain that I suffered.
I was born on a ship between America and England. My father was a farmer and my mother was a teacher. When my Pa couldn't find work in England he packed up what little things he owned and took his family over to America where dreams were suppose to come true.
Shortly after we arrived in New York, my Pa took odd jobs in the city. When one night his heart broke and just gave out. I don't remember much that night. Accept hearing my mother and my older brother William crying all night long.
They buried my father two days later. My Ma was never the same after his death. William always said that she was heartbroken when Pa died. My Ma went back to teaching and did all kinds of job to see that William and I got fed, clothed, and got an education.
William and I were left alone for many afternoons. We would walk along the ocean or go riding along the beach. He and I were so close. Until one afternoon when a sunny day afternoon ride turned into a painful nightmare.
William and I saddled up the horses like normal and we rode over to the beach. We raced a few times. After awhile I go tired and wanted to go home, but William wanted to keep riding. He began to show off. I remember him yelling back to me. I remember watching him fall to the left side of the horse. I remember watching his body being drug along the sand. I remember him screaming out to me, and watching him desperately try to get his foot out of the stirrup.
But I stood there fozen in horror. My body screamed out to him. My legs longed to move. But I stood there paralyzed. No matter how much I focussed my energy on moving my legs they wouldn't.
I remember standing there until it got dark. I remember my mother taking me into her arms as she cried and cried. I knew she was glad I was safe, but I knew she was crying for my lost brother. I could feel her heart being ripped out of her chest.
I hardly remember being put into bed. Or when the doctor gave me something to sleep. I was still in shock from what happened. I never knew how much pain was yet to come until later on.
For the second time in my life I went to a funeral. My brother only ten years old was laid to rest next to my father. When everyone left. I collapsed onto the freshly dug grave and I cried and cried. I begged for William to forgive me. I told him I never meant for him to die. I told him and Pa that I would look after Ma.
The next three years I continued to go to school, and than later on in the afternoon I would walk along the beach for hours. Losing all track of time. All three of those years I was lonely, lost, confused, and so sad. And I knew my Ma was feeling the same way. I never rode horses after that until many years later when I was a man.
Then my Ma got better work and she began to be happier. Things seemed to get better for awhile. Another year passed by. I thought we might actually make it. But then one night my whole world fell apart.
I spent hours waiting for my mother to come home. Soon it got dark. I remember falling asleep. Hours later a fisherman knocked on our door. I opened it. I would never forget the look on his face, and I knew something terrible had happened.
He took me to the lake where people had gathered around. I saw her body. All blue and wet. She looked so cold. They all told me that she had drowned, and how sorry they were for my loss. I remember just running and running.
I ran to the ocean on the beach. I looked out at the full moon, and I cursed my father, for leaving me and Ma all alone. I yelled and screamed until there was no energy left inside of me. I fell asleep on the soft and cool sand. That felt so good against my hot and sweaty body.
I woke up the next morning as the sun was just beginning to rise. I sat up and watched the sun stretch out over the horizon and rise up above the deep blue water. It gave me hope that maybe, just maybe it had all been a dream. That I would go home and my Ma would be there waiting with her arms wide open.
I ran back to my house. I opened the door. But what I expected to find and what I did find were very different. My house was quiet. The table had been set and dinner was still on the stove. It was just as I had left it the night before. I felt the tears come back once more.
I went over to my Ma's chest. I pulled out a picture of my Ma,Pa, brother, and me. I put it in my pocket. I took what little money I found. I packed a few belongings and I set out West.
Within a few weeks I met up with an old friend from New York. His name was Daniel. He became my closest friend in the long years ahead. We laughed, We cried, we did everything together. His pain was my pain, and my pain was his pain.
We eventually made our way to Colorado Springs. We settled there. Soon I found my self courtin a young woman. With raven hair and the deepest darkest brown eyes I ever did see.
But her father had different plans for her when I told him I wanted to marry his daughter. He told me that I wasn't prepared in any way to be married. I didn't had much money, and I was just a boy.
But her Ma saw something different. She saw how much I loved her daughter Abagail. She gave me a deed to some land her Pa had given her when he died. I built a small homestead and Abagail and I got married against her father's will.
We thought within a while he would eventually accept us. But he was a stubborn old man. Soon Abagail was pregnant with our first child. I remember the joy I felt when I found out. I knew I would make her proud of me.
The night she went into labor was a nightmare. We took her to the midwife. Charlette did everything she could. She sent Abagail to Denver in a wagon. Somehow I knew deep down that neither of them was going to make it.
I never got to know my daughter. She died before she ever took her first breath. I thought that I could never feel more pain then the loss of my family. But the loss of my wife and my child was more than I could ever bare.
I blamed God for my loss. I cursed him for taking everyone that I loved away. I found myself in the darkest place I had ever found. It was cold and depressing. I was more lonely than that lonely place I had resided too.
I enlisted into the war. Hoping to lose myself. I became a sniper. I took people's lives and it was more than I could bare. I deserted and went back to Colorado Springs.
I wandered in the woods for days. I didn't have a will to live anymore. Then Cloud Dancing, a cheyenne medicine man found me. He nursed my body and my heart and soul back to health. He made me fight even when I didn't want to fight. He made me live, even when the life was gone from me.
He taught me his language, his customs, his culture, his beliefs. I learned respect for the land and nature that I once dug up and destroyed. Soon the cheyenne became my purpose.
A few more years passed. And with it the war went and the nation became united once again. One day a woman who was doctor came off the stage. The moment I saw her I knew that I loved her, but I wouldn't allow myself to feel, for fear I would lose another loved one.
I became good friends with her. I came to love her and the three children she had adopted very much. Then when she went away to Boston I could feel myself losing her. It was heartbreaking. I traveled to Boston and I proclaimed my love for her.
I want back to Colorado Springs without her. I was afraid that I was to late and I had lost her for good. But then she came back and told me that she loved me too.
We began to build a strong relationship. It stood the test of time over and over again. From her not dead fiancee to dog soldiers kidnapping her. Our love rung through the pain, the turmoil. Soon we were married.
I began to let myself feel and love again. And soon the vision of having children rung through once more. But then the fear became so great I wasn't going to take anychances with my wife's safety. I wouldn't allow her to be taken from me just like everyone else who had been taken.
But then I found out she was pregnant. I was overjoyed and filled fear at the news. Through the nine months I began to open up to the possibility of a child to love and hold.
When my wife went into labor in the woods with no doctors to guide her through I was terrified. My wife and child's fate rested in my hands. When I saw the head I felt fear and joy all at once. But then when it stopped, I panicked. I thought I was going to lose another child and I couldn't stand it. I listened to my wife's directions to cut the cord. But I was terrified I would make a mistake. Finally I couldn't stand to see her in pain any longer. So I cut the cord.
Our child slid into my hands and she began to cry. I felt so much joy and relief. I got to watch my daughter grow up along with my other children and my wife by myside.
I learned that life ends and life begins. That tragedys happen but that life doesn't stop. It keeps going on. I was lucky. I found a second chance to have a family and be happy. I thank God everyday for that. Life is a precious thing that is not meant to be taken for granted. One person only gets one life.