The lights spun around illuminating my face as the constant sound of the siren grew louder and louder. One by one my senses were extinguished before a sensation of stillness and calm that I had never felt before. It was like falling asleep, without sorrows, without fears, only feeling calm.
The light became darker and darker, the road became longer and the sirens became a sweet melody, sharp, warm. I could see images coming and going from one moment to the next, remembering, returning to the past. Would he be there waiting?
On the other side..
Saturday morning I received a call, the clock was ticking at 3:45 and I couldn't help but be exalted when I read the name on my mobile: "Lorena".
What do you want at this hour? I asked myself. However, for some reason something was wrong, a shiver ran down my back and I feared the worst.
— What's going on Lorena? ... Impossible! When did it happen? ... I'll be right there!
At 5:15 AM I arrived at the morgue, Lorena hugged me just before taking me to a room. There, covered by a sheet, a body waited for us while a civil servant asked us if we were ready, I nodded, a second later the sheets veiled the cold body of a young man, my son.
Lorena fell to the ground, passed out, I however tried to contain the tears and I clung to the edge of the stretcher, observing the empty look of Lucas, a distant, gloomy look. I couldn't do more, I stayed like this for about 1 hour until the forensics had to ask me to leave the place, they had to prepare the autopsy.
The accident had happened on Highway 89, a car in front of him had to stop on the side of the road to change a tire, Lucas did not observe the change of Lights, he was going at high speed and could not brake in time. He was drunk.
— Fucking idiot...
It had been a long time since Lucas had left home, he had a relationship with a young girl named Lucy, charming on the outside, rotten on the inside. Neither Lorena nor I had approved the relationship, but he loved her, loved her so much that he decided to start a life on his own, next to her. That was two years ago. However, a few weeks ago everything was over, Lucy had met someone else, Lucas was discarded and there was nothing else to do but go home, the girl made her decision, leaving him alone.
At that moment I remember arguing with him, it was a very long discussion, an argument that ended with my broken nose and two broken ribs. Lorena filed for divorce right after hitting her face in the middle of the fight, Lucas left with her. There was nothing I could do.
For a moment I thought it would be best, that Lucas would need to be with his mother and that somehow he had not been a good father, nor a good husband, but alcohol entered his life, he suffered relapses every few months, he arrived drunk from work and Lorena had to call me for help, he was hostile but he was my son.
I couldn't believe he was dead.
Now it was me who was confined to depression. Lorena had already been gone for 3 years. Scotland, if I remember correctly. She decided to start a new life.
I left work, I drank a lot, I remembered every day as that morning in the morgue. I couldn't sleep, I had nightmares, I attended psychologists without results. I just wondered, what would it have been if that night, after that family fight, I had apologized? maybe I was alive? was it my fault? I needed to see him, I wanted to have my son back.
I took the old ford, turned on the heating and walked the road, heading north, heading for that place, that 89 road where everything started and where everything had to end.
The lights spun around illuminating my face as the constant sound of the siren grew louder and louder.
— Bring oxygen, we're losing it!
One by one my senses were extinguished before a sensation of stillness and calm that I had never felt before.
— You will be all right! Stay with me!
It was like falling asleep, without sorrows, without fears, just feeling calm.
The light became darker and darker, the road became longer and the sirens became a sweet melody, sharp, warm. I could see images coming and going from moment to moment, remembering, going back to the past. Would he be there waiting?
Would he be able to forgive me?
— I'm... I'm sorry.
Image source: link.