~Birth and death; we all move between these two unknowns. ~Bryant H. McGill

Epov:

I stared at my hands for far too long, studying all the lines and ridges as if I was pleading with them to speak to me, sympathize with me or still my raging heart beats, But no. My heart and mind were co-operating in an attempt to kill me.

I looked up to stare at yet another object. This time it was the sterile walls of the emergency room. They were so…..I couldn't even come up with a single adjective in this state of mind that I was thrust in this afternoon. Then my subconscious decided to make it worse by replaying today's events.

It was a very normal morning I woke up next to my wife, made love to her, had a shower, went to the garage and then..., I got that fateful phone call from the hospital.

Back to today's morning, I reminiscenced about the softness of the skin on her cheeks and how it felt against my lips. Her natural scent hit my senses even before I opened my eyes to find her smiling down at me. She had been doing this frequently lately. I leaned down to smell her soft hair and started to make love to her.

Deserting my memory lane, I turned to the clock hanging above the wall I had been fascinated with for almost an hour now. It had been three hours and still nobody cared enough to tell me what was happening. As if on cue, the doctors still in scrubs walked over to where I was sitting stiffly. I rose up, not appreciating the grim expression he was wearing now.

"Mr. Masen?" asked the doctor.

"Yes. How is my wife? Is she alright? What about.." I rambled non-stop until the doctor lowered his eyes to the ground and mumbled the two words I have been dreading.

"I am sorry Mr. Masen. We have done all that we could do for her. But the impact of the accident was too strong for her body to handle, specially for someone in her case."

"What you mean she couldn't handle it?" I chocked at my voice. The tears yet would have to make an appearance anytime now.

"No, she is strong enough to handle anything." I continued.

"We tried all we could, sir. I am very sorry for your loss" he said as if he actually meant it." I know this is not the most appropriate time but the police really needs to talk to you". Then, he walked away.

I dragged my feet, running after him." What about the baby?" I asked with gripping fear.

"He didn't make it either", he said, leaving me paralyzed with people swirling around me.

The once noisy ER room turned silent. It was like somebody hit the mute button while watching an episode of Grey's anatomy. I know that show because she liked it.

The baby that would have made an appearance in a month was now long gone along with his mother.

My son, the flesh and blood that I helped create with the sweet angel that is now lying lifelessly on a cold operating table, was gone. The tiny little blip, that appeared on the sonogram letting us know that he existed, was gone.

Finally, my tears escaped from my tear ducts and rolled freely on my cheeks. My heart clenched as I slumped against the wall, whimpering my now- dead wife's name.

Tanya.