Page 99 of The Legend
His fans,would they stand by him? Would they help him through this?
Everything,every thought I could possibly wonder about was present. I don’t know if it wasmy minds way of dealing with the stress but I thought about all that. I had noanswers though.
Ieventually removed myself from the bathroom to sit in the hall outside theintensive care unit. I knew Jameson wasn’t in there but that’s where I was whenthe doctor found me before so I thought maybe he would know where to look whenhe needed me again.
Axel wasthere by himself with his head bent forward resting on his arms that were heldup by his knees, still wearing his racing suit. I watched him closely. His eyesmet my gaze evenly. His expression was calm but the pain in his eyes wasunconcealed.
A child’sinnocence provides them with a security of not knowing. They can onlycomprehend so much about death and reality before their innocence takes over.They would never truly understand the magnitude at their young age.
When mymom died, I had that security of not understanding. Everything was still afairytale for me.
WhenCharlie died, that security wasn’t there any longer and I was forced to dealwith it as an adult. I wouldn’t say I dealt with it real well but I did eat alot of ice cream and that was comforting. All I could say was at least I wasdealing with the shit and didn’t hole myself in my room. It definitely soundedappealing but I didn’t.
Eventually,with the distraction of a new baby, Axel, Jameson and I were able to slowlyrecover from Charlie dying.
With Jimi,this wouldn’t be as easy. For one, my support system, my other half, was lyingin a hospital bed hanging onto his life by machines. And two, I think in asense, I prepared myself to a certain extent that Charlie was dying. With Jimi,the detonation was instant.
When thedoctor spoke the words, “He’s gone.” I silently begged him to take back hiswords. This couldn’t happen. Not to our family. Not to a family that has had toovercome tragedy so often.
When the sun began to rise that morning in Iowa, Isat in the lobby next to the coffee stand watching the snow fall. Emotionally,I was completely drained. I wanted to shut down and sleep, pretending thiswasn’t happening, but it was. I had my kids, my husband and our entire familyto think of right now. Shutting down wasn’t an option.
Nancy was outside sitting on a bench by herself,watching. If you looked close enough, you could see her lips moving as if shewas either praying or talking to Jimi. Either way, I decided not to watch as Ifelt she needed this time alone.
They wouldn’t let us up to the fifth floor wheretheNeuro-ICU was. Instead, we had to stay in theIntensive Care waiting area they had until Jameson was stable enough to beremoved from the ICU.
I had arrived around three in the morning onThursday. By now, it was nine on Friday morning and no one had left the waitingroom, No one.
Nancy briefly stepped out with Spencer to discussarrangements for Jimi and she of course got to see him. She still hadn’t criedthat we knew of and even after she saw him in the morgue, she still didn’t cry.
I did. I found my place on that bathroom flooragain and my magazine, and cried. Matter of fact, I still had that magazine andthe picture of my husband next to the condom ad.
Mostly everyone had cried including my kids, allaside from Nancy. This also wasn’t something you cried and it was suddenlyover. It was a blow that kept coming.
With the arrival of morning, more family andfriends had arrived. Andrea was now here with Lucas and Macy. Ami, Lily, Kyle,Mason...pretty much our entire family and extended family of our sprint car andCup teams.
We all waited.
Casten and Axel left for an hour and when theycame back, I realized just how special my boys were. These kids had just losttheir grandfather hours ago, their father was being kept alive by machines, butthey found time to bring everyone food.
They stopped off at a nearby diner and picked upan assortment of food for everyone and coffee for me and Tommy.
Shortly after ten, Dr. Howe returned for me tosign a form on our medical insurance and authorize further treatment onJameson.
“Any change?”
“He’s stable but still listed in criticalcondition.” Dr. Howe said. “He had two more seizures and I had to go in andcontrol some of the continued bleeding around his brain due to swelling. He’slost a lot of blood so we had to give him a blood transfusion.”
Reaching for my magazine, holding it close, Ariereached for me when I swayed but the gravity of him being here, though it was afucking magazine I was holding, rooted me here.
“Can I see him yet?” My voice trembled with theshaking of my body. Flashes of Jameson healthy and happy before he left theother day caused me to start crying. “Please?” I begged. “I just need to seehim. I won’t go inside the room. I just need...to see. I’m begging you; all Ineed is a peak.”
It was if I had this false pretense that if I sawhim, I would feel better about it.
The doctor paused, his eyes scanning the twentysome people gathered in the room. Our faces all the same detached frozen gaze.
He looked back at me seeing my pain, feeling mypain. “I can let you back there for a minute, but only you.”
Everyone seemed to understand, so I went alone. Ialso didn’t want to kids seeing him like this. I had no idea what he lookedlike right now but I knew I didn’t want our children to have a memory of himlike this if it was our last one.
