The Darkest Hour
“Mr Millar,” the ambulance driver addressed me on the way. “We’re doing all we can. But your wife is very unwell. And I need you to know that.”
I knew what that meant. I think I responded with a simple “I understand”. Medicine’s power had reached its limit, I figured. All we had left to hope for was that miracle.
Suse was ushered into an Emergency Room. I was sent to a special “family room”. And I waited. I think it was about midnight. I prayed and prayed, uttering nothing more than “Please God. Please help her. Please heal her.” Over and over again. I didn’t know what else to pray. But then I prayed something like:
“Father: I know you can heal her; I know you can bring her back. But if this is the path that our family is to take then…”
I couldn’t finish the prayer. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t prepared to live with the consequences of what I was about to say. But I had to finish the prayer. Suse would want me to be faithful. So, with a certain degree of insincerity, I weakly said:
“…then let your will be done.”
It was no more than 10 seconds later that the emergency doctor appeared to tell me there was nothing more they could do.
He brought me to Susie, or at least, he brought me to her body. She was surrounded by at least 15 medical staff, all now staring at me with what seemed to be a deep sadness. These people were accustomed to seeing death, but was this different? Did they feel it more intently? Could they see the extent of the beauty that had been destroyed?
In that moment, a darkness flooded my soul at a rate which pushed me beyond any natural ability to bear it. The adrenalin surged to prevent that darkness from consuming me beyond repair. It left a knot in my stomach which would not disappear for a couple of months.
Susie’s life had ended. My precious wife was dead. Just 41 years old. With so much still to give, it seemed to me. I leaned into a wall and wept. What had happened? What had she felt? Where was she now? Was her final memory my love? What was I to do? Where was I to go? I didn’t want to leave her, but she’d already left. I went to her. I held her hand. I told her how much I loved her, wishing so much that she could hear it. But the once so talkative, and once so vivacious Susie, had no more words. Silence. Blood-curdling, gut-wrenching, soul-destroying silence.
