It was a slow weekend morning in the tiny suburban city that I used to work for. You were my first and only call that day. As I was saying “911, where’s your emergency”, I saw the phone number. I have known the phone number that was displaying on my screen for years. The first words you said to me was my name and “it’s your mother”.
I knew you would never call 911 even when I was at work unless it was something bad. I remember thinking that she had just seen an accident or something, trying to stay positive. It wasn’t even close to that when I saw the location on the map. I asked you what was going on.
You told me that your fiance had a gun to your head and he told you that he was going to kill you. I took silent breaths trying to calm down so that you would stay calm. You were so strong the whole time. I did everything I could to try to get you out before he shot you, but that failed. After he pulled the trigger, I didn’t hear the shot, just the smoke alarms going off.
I will never forget the words you said to me as your voice started to fade. I will never forget how you kept apologizing like it was your fault when it wasn’t. I will always hear the desperate tone of your voice as you said that you loved me and goodbye. I will always remember when the officers ran in to get you out. I will remember the calm that came over me as I saw you being loaded into the ambulance. I will never forget the first chance I got to see you in the hospital and the shock that overwhelmed me when I didn’t know it was you because of all the blood.
I feel this day all over again each time I see you upset or see you face a new setback with your recovery. It’s been just over a year and I still can hear it like it was 5 minutes ago. I still have you here, but I have the memories of this call, too.