She walked in stiff heavy steps toward the telephone
pole. The air was completely still, even
the ever persistent cry of the crows was noticeably absent. It was as though all of time was frozen,
nature standing in awe-filled respect for this moment.
Her boots crunched under the frozen gravel, and she
hugged her arms to her chest to fight off the chill. The heavy ache that taken permanent residence
in her heart became even more palpable, nearly unbearable.
Why did she come out here today? She wondered.
She stopped just a few feet short of the pole and took
a few deep breaths. She had died here
with her brother just a year ago. His
body was gone, but hers had somehow kept breathing and waking and living every
day.
She took a few more steps forward, removed the glove
from her left hand and gently touched the pole. It was weather worn and splintered. She was both repulsed and fascinated with
this roughly hewn beam. It held a power
line, live wires. How ironic that it
also held the power to kill.
She let her mind wander back to that morning… He had
been tense and late, sleeping through his alarm. His usual cheerful demeanor was gone, and
instead he furiously gathered his things in frustration. She hung back, observing quietly. She adored
him. Six years her senior, she had
watched him grow into an adult with such ease and joy. He had taken her on as an apprentice of his
life, showing her how he had taught himself to fix his car, laughing as he
failed miserably at playing the guitar, and gently quietly listening with committed
attention to her often immature and under developed thoughts.
He had adored her, too.
That morning, he had snapped at her to hurry up, then
paused and intentionally stilled himself to look at her. His brow furrowed, he closed his eyes, let
out a long breath, and when he had reopened his eyes, a strained peace came
over him.
“Sorry, Rael,” he said with some effort.
She gave him a weak smile. He flashed a giant one back, and she
immediately felt a wave of relief. They
chatted happily as he drove through the early morning light to her school. She was rattling off all of the classes she
was going to have next year as a freshman, when the car suddenly hit a patch of
black ice.
Rael shook her head as snapshots of the accident flew
through her mind, somewhat out of order, missing pieces. It showered her mind quickly, but then
stopped on the one moment that changed her life.
Again, she was looking at the pole but now it had blood
on it, dented with dark red streaks. Her
mind wanted to stay there and not turn her head, not see with such clarity the
broken body of her brother lying on the hood of his car (he had just changed the
oil last weekend, was the thought that had oddly flown into her head at that
moment). Bleeding. So much blood.
She knew instantly he was gone. And like a dam that had held back the rest of
the universe, waters came rushing into her soul, threatening to drown her.
After that day, she had struggled, fighting to keep her
head above the waves. Anders had been
her world, an unshakeable thing. She had
never been afraid or felt unsafe.
But all of that died right here.
She ran her fingers over the dent.
How had a year passed already?
Against all reason, she smiled. Ander’s life and love had shaped her. He had nurtured her, taught her how to learn,
strengthened her bones with the confidence he placed in her, in who she was,
and in her ability.
But it wasn’t until he died, that she began
living. It had taken her the full year
to realize that even his death was a gift.
She cringed to acknowledge that truth, and more than anything she wanted
him back.
But she couldn’t deny how just like this telephone pole
in the countryside of Alaska, his death held power, it fed into her life, and
lit up places of her soul that she couldn’t have seen before.
Rael let her hand fall to her side as she looked up
into the grey sky. Her heart was still
heavy, her boots iron weights on her
feet. But inside she felt the humming of
a deathly power, filling her both with fear and awe.
She saw his smile in her mind. He lived there now. And she was light.
