Chapter 5, Devin's Way: My wife finds out


Chapter 5
            I disconnected from the travel agency and hit the answer button to connect with Ruth, the woman who gave birth to Devin nearly 22 years ago.
            600 miles away, she just finished the hike, dropped off everyone at a grassy lunch spot, and went to park our maroon, Chrysler Plymouth mini-van in one of the asphalt lots in Devil's Head State Park She sat inside the van, got my voicemail, and called back, waiting for me to pick up.
            My mouth went dry as I prepared to say … what? How do you tell your wife her child is dead?
            The next few seconds are seared into my brain.
            “Hi honey,” I said flatly.
            “Gary, what’s wrong?!?”
            I paused and started to form words I did not want to say.
            “Devin’s … been in a car accident …”
            “Oh no! What happened? Is he in the hospital? What hospital is he at?”
            I didn’t answer right away.
            “What hospital is he at?” she asked again.
            “Ruth …”
            One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
            “He’s dead. I‘m so sorry …”
            My voice cracked as tears flood my eyes and Ruth made the most painful noise I’ve ever heard.
            “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!”
            It was an utterly deep and painful, howling wail that will forever be tattooed on my soul. It’s as if I stabbed her with my words and she was dying on the other end of the phone.
            She continued an anguished combination of screaming, wailing and moaning as she dropped the phone, fell to the ground and the line went dead.
            Unbeknownst to me, Miriam was walking toward the van to get her own cell phone when she heard Ruth cry. She came running.
            I called back and could only hear Ruth crying, screaming and yelling, “No! No! No!” over and over and over and over.
            This was the worst thing I ever did in my life.
            It was more painful than getting the news that Devin had died.
            “I’m sorry,” is the only thing I could say. “I’m so, so sorry …”
            Miriam, aware something horrible happened, but not sure what, grabbed the phone.
            “Gary? What’s going on???”
            “Devin was killed in an accident, Miriam.”
            She isn’t just Ruth’s best friend, she’s like another sister. She’s been a loving aunt to our three children. She watched Devin grow up. The news tore at Miriam, too, and she started to cry.
            I could still hear Ruth. She sounded like a severely wounded animal, making the last sounds of life, while caught in the throes of death.
            At the one time when I should be there holding my wife, hugging her and offering words of comfort, I could do nothing but listen to her mournful, agonizing and gut-wrenching wails of pain over the phone line, 600 miles away.
***

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