Tonight I Looked Into a Dead Man's Eyes...
Yes... tonight I looked into the eyes of a dead man.
I saw this man in the trauma room at the ER of the Richardson Medical Resource Centre in Richardson, TX. He lay there under a cover only with his head and feet showing. This man was playing hockey with some of his friends. His eyelids were closed, but not completely. I could see the shine of the lights where the slits between his eyelids exposed his haunting, lifeless eyes.
There were people I knew there. Amongst them were his wife, her son, and her daughter. The younger children were in bed, still unaware of the news. There was even a priest there from the church which they all attended.
I have never seen a corpse only hours from the incident laying in a hospital still on the patient bed. While playing hockey earlier tonight, they had finished up a game when his heart just stopped. It halted. No apparent provocation. It just decided it would beat no longer, giving at the age of forty-eight. He would have been forty-nine come the end of September.
They tried to revive him during the ambulance ride and for a half hour after getting to the hospital. After that time, his heart didn't start again, and if it had, the brain wasn't getting oxygen. This man would have been nothing more then a vegetable had he pulled through, then.
I spent time with the family. I grieved with them, and still I'm not through. And when the rest left I stayed a bit longer. I had things I needed to say to this man as I stood there, looking into what I could see of his eyes...
This man came through for me when I was young. He came to get me when my family problems were at their peak in Illinois. He helped me finish school. He cared for me even when I hadn't been the greatest of people to care for. To this day I owe him. To this day I thank him. I will continue to do so.
Sure, he had a rough couple of marriages before this one. He's made his share of mistakes. All in all, he lead a good life. He raised a family, did the best he could to earn what was needed to care for everyone. He committed no crimes. He never even so much as look at anyone else so cross much less cause harm to anyone. I remembered all this of him, still looking at his eyes.
By mind worked very hard to cover the truth that the man was dead. It did it's best to convince me that none of it was real. He was resting. This is a bad dream. He'll be up in the morning going to work and carrying on in life. His wife tells me he died happy. This I can believe.
I said my peace. I said good-bye. I touched his forehead before I left; stone cold. I never felt it for myself, and it chilled me. It chilled me not in a sense of fear, but in a sense of emotional weight that truly sealed the deal... that my mind would no longer try to fool me... that the fact had to be accepted. That was when I wept.
Yet at a couple moments through all this, I could swear that those eyes were looking back at me.
Tonight I looked into the eyes of a dead man. That man... was my father.
July 12th, 2006 - Brian Robert Schmidt - May he rest in peace knowing he will still be with me. And I will still be with him.
I saw this man in the trauma room at the ER of the Richardson Medical Resource Centre in Richardson, TX. He lay there under a cover only with his head and feet showing. This man was playing hockey with some of his friends. His eyelids were closed, but not completely. I could see the shine of the lights where the slits between his eyelids exposed his haunting, lifeless eyes.
There were people I knew there. Amongst them were his wife, her son, and her daughter. The younger children were in bed, still unaware of the news. There was even a priest there from the church which they all attended.
I have never seen a corpse only hours from the incident laying in a hospital still on the patient bed. While playing hockey earlier tonight, they had finished up a game when his heart just stopped. It halted. No apparent provocation. It just decided it would beat no longer, giving at the age of forty-eight. He would have been forty-nine come the end of September.
They tried to revive him during the ambulance ride and for a half hour after getting to the hospital. After that time, his heart didn't start again, and if it had, the brain wasn't getting oxygen. This man would have been nothing more then a vegetable had he pulled through, then.
I spent time with the family. I grieved with them, and still I'm not through. And when the rest left I stayed a bit longer. I had things I needed to say to this man as I stood there, looking into what I could see of his eyes...
This man came through for me when I was young. He came to get me when my family problems were at their peak in Illinois. He helped me finish school. He cared for me even when I hadn't been the greatest of people to care for. To this day I owe him. To this day I thank him. I will continue to do so.
Sure, he had a rough couple of marriages before this one. He's made his share of mistakes. All in all, he lead a good life. He raised a family, did the best he could to earn what was needed to care for everyone. He committed no crimes. He never even so much as look at anyone else so cross much less cause harm to anyone. I remembered all this of him, still looking at his eyes.
By mind worked very hard to cover the truth that the man was dead. It did it's best to convince me that none of it was real. He was resting. This is a bad dream. He'll be up in the morning going to work and carrying on in life. His wife tells me he died happy. This I can believe.
I said my peace. I said good-bye. I touched his forehead before I left; stone cold. I never felt it for myself, and it chilled me. It chilled me not in a sense of fear, but in a sense of emotional weight that truly sealed the deal... that my mind would no longer try to fool me... that the fact had to be accepted. That was when I wept.
Yet at a couple moments through all this, I could swear that those eyes were looking back at me.
Tonight I looked into the eyes of a dead man. That man... was my father.
July 12th, 2006 - Brian Robert Schmidt - May he rest in peace knowing he will still be with me. And I will still be with him.