Lies~

I wrote about how songs take me back, instantly, here . It happened again this morning, at the most inopportune time for me. I was getting my nails done, after the dentist. I was not exactly a, "happy camper," you might guess.

Sarah McLachlan's, "In the Arms of the Angels," came on. It was a flash. And I started to get tears.

Al.

Tommy asked for him, in his moment of weakness and sheer confusion when I was in the trauma room. Many stood stunned and confused?

He was my partner in crime. My back up and my friend. My 3L16 while I was his 3L17. We worked our asses off Wednesday through Friday, mid watch 11:00AM to 9:00 PM so we could fluff off all day Saturday when it was slow.

We used to tour model homes in between calls. We would look at how they were decorated and get ideas. We were both building new houses at the same time. He would talk about Nieko, his Shiba Inu puppy he was training and I would talk about the color of my new leather couch. We rambled about our loves. Mine, Tommy. His, Gracie. We we inseparable until I moved beats and tested for motors.

I remember one afternoon we met at Chaparral Suites after I was a day motor. He wanted me to show him what we had to learn during motor school. I did the circle in the square between parking spaces. He rode motorcycles and wanted to try. Of course I would never let someone do that, that was not certified....;) (He never did get that bike to do a circle in the square!!) I loved Al. He was like the brother I never had and the partner that would never let me get hurt on duty.

He was the first person to teach me about, "The Body for Life." And how to smile through anything. God how I loved him. He was one guy that Tommy never questioned his intentions behind our friendship. Al was a stand up guy and Tommy loved him too!

Al died when I was almost 5 months pregnant with Brinkley. A random freak motocross accident on the track. They buried him in his police uniform. It was him. It was fitting. He loved being a cop. And he was a great cop.

For years, anyone who knew about this, asked me if I had any kind of, "out of body experience?" I lied. I lied to everyone who asked and anytime they asked I held back the tears by biting my cheeks, hard. I didn't want to talk about that with family, friends, or just random people, let alone shed tears in front of them. I lied often and I lied well about it.

Not exactly the thing I am most proud of in life.

Today, it hit me. Hard.

I did have that, "experience," or I, "saw something," or however some may describe it. I just never talked about it or told anyone...not even Tommy, which is strange because although Al had died nearly a year before I tried to, Tommy asked for Al in that trauma room when I was dying.

In the blink of an eye I was back there. Remembering. Reliving it all, as I was sitting at my nail salon.

I heard the drill again, I heard the nurses and I heard Dr. Wachtel. It was all the same...

but this time I let it finish.

The song was playing from Al's funeral on the radio while the drill was whirring away on my nails. I felt frozen to my memory of Al.. but it was not his funeral we were at. It was my trauma room.....

and he was there. He was holding my hand. Smiling. I wanted to leave with him. He stood firm. It was hours it seemed. No words. A smile and holding hands and then I finally turned to leave.

The next time I woke up, I was looking at a Priest, my Dad and Tommy.

I am not proud of the fact that I have lied about this for almost 8 years but it was something I could not bear to discuss with anyone.

It was mine.

A memory, a moment, a chance encounter that saved my life. Today, I am thankful for that second chance Al. So much more that I can express.

I am also thankful for my Dr. and friend who is giving me the courage to open up about this through the faith he is instilling in me everytime I visit him and he prays for me!