Chapter One: The Potter’s Mold
I should have done something, anything--turn up the heat, go to the restroom, anything different from what I was doing--sitting motionless, hypnotized, watching my brother-in-law Lee, sitting emotionless across the dimly lit hospital room with a blank stare on his face as he observed my youngest daughter, Rachelle, and me holding his sister’s hand weeping. Each comatose induced movement of her eyes kept beat to the ticking of the wall clock while she fought using every breath to sustain her life.
The three of us knew the inevitable; it was just a matter of time and a terrible strain as I struggled with my emotions. I whispered letting my lips caress her neck and ear, "Honey it is okay if you want to let go, and with my next drawn breath pleading, "Please, Trisha please, don’t die. I need you, the kids need you, your mother needs you." All the while, Trisha’s gown grew damp from the tears Rachelle and I shed.
I had spent every waking moment from her diagnosis six days earlier begging God, Jehovah, Jesus, and every other deity who crossed my mind; even going so far as selling myself to the Devil in hopes the woman who was needed by so many would not die. It was then with my head resting on her breast a sickening feeling engulfed me and I felt my hopes, dreams, and faith slip away. I came to the realization no one was going to answer my prayers, not God or the Devil.