Dear, Me

Nobody at the age of 23 should have to experience what I did. Everything I worked so hard for crumpled into pieces. Everything was fine last year, I was happy, excited, thankful for the life I had.

I had a great husband. Handsome, and sweet. I met him when I was a junior in high school. Seth Harmon was my date to prom. We were Aston High’s dream couple. We ended up going to university together. It was after one of Seth’s football games when he proposed to me, the whole stadium watching me, waiting for my answer. My love for Seth was undeniable, so, of course, I said yes.

Our wedding was a week after the last week of university. It was beautiful. I didn’t want a traditional wedding at a church, so our wedding was on the beach. You could hear the waves crashing behind us as we said our vows. Now, here is the part where things get compilated.

My parents disowned me. They never approved of Seth. Not in high school, not in university. They went ballistic when they heard that I got engaged to Seth Harmon. My parents were one of the richest people in Oak meadow, Michigan. So when they disowned me, I had to start paying for my school. I haven’t spoken to them since then.

A month after Seth and I got married, Seth and I both found decent jobs. Seth got a job at a law firm as a lawyer, and I got a job at the hospital as a nurse. Then, I found out that I was pregnant. I kept working through the first trimester and second trimester. By the third trimester, we had a new house, ready to start our family.

It was April 14th when I went into labor. But, by April 15th my baby boy was pronounced dead. I didn’t even get to name my son because as soon as he was born he was rushed to the ICU. They said that when he was born he was blue, and not breathing.

It was Seth who brightened my days when he got home from work. The whole situation had an effect on both of us. Seth would come home every day with, dark bags beneath his deep brown eyes.

Seth’s parents visited us as soon as word got to them. His mom made the breakfast and comforted me when I needed it the most. She reminded me of my own mother, before high school, before Seth was in my life. At that time I thought that April 15th was the worst day of my life. Little did I know what was waiting for me.

It was July 19th, four days after Seth’s parents have left the state. The day started out the same. I got up, made myself some breakfast. When I was done, I went to my "quiet room", which was a room that I had converted to a library. I grabbed a book I was reading and sat down on my blue comfy chair. Every now and then I would glance at the clock on the wall, waiting for Seth to come home from work. I hadn’t gone back to work, but I was planning to go back in two weeks.

I grabbed my phone from the coffee table next to me as it rang and looked at the caller ID. It was a number I didn’t know. I was tempted not to answer it, but I thought better. It could’ve been something important, and it was.

It was a police officer who informed me that Seth had been admitted to the hospital after he was involved in an accident. My heart stopped beating for a good ten seconds. I wasn’t going to lose another person. I asked the officer which hospital, and it was the one I worked at, Landow Medical Center.

I dropped my book, grabbed the car keys that laid on the kitchen counter, and drove as fast as I could to the hospital. When I got there, I was out of breath, frantic to see my husband. A nurse led me to Seth’s room. All of the sudden I was weak to my bones, even breathing seemed like an impossible task.

Bruises and cuts covered Seth’s body. His eyes closed, his breath shallow. The only sound in the room was the heart rate monitor that was connected to Seth. All of the sudden the monitor started beeping faster, more frantic. Even if you weren’t a doctor, you knew that that was a bad sound. Soon doctors and nurses rushed around the room some shouting “code blue” and some shouting orders. The doctor with the paddles in her hand ordered one of the nurses to take me out of the room.

I sat outside the room praying that Seth was going to be ok. After a couple of minutes, one of the four doctors inside the room came out with a sad look on his face. I knew it before the words came out of his mouth. I couldn’t control the tears that flowed from my eyes. The doctor bent down to give me a hug. He kept whispering that everything was going to be ok. I hated it when people said that. No, it wasn’t going to be ok.

It’s January now, and it’s still not ok. Nothing is ok. My parents thought that it was a good idea to come back into my life once Seth had died. How cruel. I was about to lose the house that Seth and I had bought because I lost my job a couple weeks after Seth’s death and I couldn't pay off the home loan. My parents are still trying to get a hold of me, but I think I’m done with this life. Done. There is nothing else for me to live for. I decided today was the last day I was going to breathe.

I walked around the house for the last time. I stepped into my library room. Immediately my eyes fell on my diary that laid on the coffee table. The same one I was reading when the police called me about Seth. I pushed that memory aside, after all this was my last time in this room, in this house, in this world. I walked to the coffee table and picked the book up. I let out a sigh. It was my diary. I used to write in this diary through my high school career. Nobody knew about it, not even Seth.

I opened the book, and read the date that was at the top. My first day of high school.