Recently, I have some how become
one of those people who gets addicted to a Netflix series. I have now become
that person who takes my laptop or phone everywhere I go, just because I can’t
possibly rip myself away from it. I have lost many hours of sleep and ditched out
on many nights out with friends just to catch up on "Grey’s Anatomy."
In this episode the surgeons are on a plane to meet up with staff from another hospital to assist in performing a surgery on conjoined twins. On their way to the hospital their plane goes down. Once they become aware of what has happened, they are all terrified. Scrambling around to find each other while still tending to their own injuries.
The part of this episode that was so tragic for me to watch as a viewer was watching the fear the surgeons had in their eyes as they desperately tried to regain the life of one of their co – worker/sister/girlfriend. As I watched, I found my heart racing uncontrollably and tears pouring out of my eyes. This is a normal reaction when watching something like this, but for someone who has had the breath taken right out of their chest before, it becomes too painful to watch without being hit with their own flashbacks.
As I watched the characters trying to scream for help only to find their voices were too scared to make any noise, I felt the, oh, so un-welcomed sheet of cold come over me. This cold has made its appearance over me one time before, and even then, it was still not the warm sheet you hope for.
I was in for Christmas break my junior year of college. I came home early just because I felt like I should be home that weekend. When I got home Mom told me she hadn’t heard from my dad in several hours. Dad being a rancher, it wasn’t uncommon to not hear from him for several hours at a time. However, this time, Dad not answering was different. He was diagnosed with Huntington’s Disease several months prior to this day and had struggled with mental health issues since before he was diagnosed.
After not hearing from him for several hours Mom and I decided to go look for him. We made a plan to start at the places closest to the house and make our way out to try to find him. We went to the first gate and didn’t find him. As I backed out of the gate entrance, my lights hit a familiar object. It was Dad’s truck. A wave of relief came over me... but it was soon taken away when I realized his truck wasn’t in the right spot. He never parked outside the gate; he always pulled in and parked next to the pens. Why was he parked there now?
The closer I got to his truck the colder I got. I pulled in behind his Toyota, hoping to see those long legs stretch out of the tiny pick-up like I had seen a million times before. If I saw that, I knew everything would be OK. As we sat behind him, lights beaming into his truck, I didn’t see the legs stretch out. I looked over at Mom and could see the fear in her eyes, even though I wasn’t even looking into them. I grabbed mom’s hand to let her know I felt the same way. It was then I heard the weak whimper of my voice say, “I’ll go.” At that moment mom pulled me back in and said she would go.
I watched Mom slowly creep to his truck, trying to post pone what she already knew she was going to find. She stepped up to the window with an amount of bravery I still hadn’t found yet, and looked inside. A scream, so painful it felt like my teeth shattered, came out of my Moms lungs, and my entire world stopped.
Just like in the movies, I could hear my heart beat, the world moved slowly around me and I couldn’t move or speak. With every fiber in my body I shoved the truck door open and stood there hopelessly. At that instant I knew he was gone. I knew there was nothing I could do for him, but I desperately needed to do something for Mom. At that moment, all I could do was pray. I’m not sure what I was praying or if I was praying out loud or in my head, but, I do know, I asked God to give me strength. Because, without him with me, I wasn’t going to be able to do this, I wasn’t strong enough for this.
What felt like an eternity after, I felt God place one strong hand on my left shoulder and I felt Dad squeeze my right shoulder just like he always did to let me know he was on my side, and then, I felt heavens angels come down and surround me and Mom.
The slow movement of the earth around me sped up and after desperately trying to remember, I finally recalled what 911’s number was. When the dispatcher answered, in a voice as clear as me speaking in front of an audience, I could hear myself say, “My name is Brady Plowman, my Dad, Cody Plowman has shot himself and I need help”. I prayed the entire time I was on the phone, I prayed with Mom to try and give her some kind of peace she needed, because I didn’t have any words to ease the pain. I called our neighbor and his wife to come get Mom and take her away, because she didn’t need to be there anymore than she had already been.
With the strength of God I was able to think of people I knew who would know where we were to get us help and bring the ambulance in. I called my Uncle Joey and told him and my Aunt Stacy the devastating news and asked them if they could go get my brother and bring him home.
That night I made calls well over my maturity level. I desperately clung to my mom in hopes that she wouldn’t feel alone. I knew nothing I did or said would ease the pain, but I hoped the tighter I hugged her, the safer she would feel. By the time we made it home, we were greeted with earthly angles. Friends, family, and community members were extending their love to my family to give us the strength to stand back up after living our, and their, worst night mare. Because of the love, patience, guidance and prayers of heavenly angels and earthly angels, almost a year and half later, my family can finally breath again.
Mom has found peace in what happened. God has blessed her with an awesome man who has extended his heart to my family to love us enough for him and Dad. My brother was blessed with an amazing woman who stood by his side in the loss and grief of losing our dad. And for me, God stood with me through a lot of heartache and pain I put myself through. He was my shield to protect me from evil, my blanket to keep me from losing feeling, my eyes to avoid evil, and my feet to guide me when I thought I wasn’t strong enough to.
Just as in the "Grey’s Anatomy" series, the doctors go on with life. They don’t stop living or loving because they have lost a loved one. They do, just like I did, fall on their face a few times. They take way too many twisted roads that could have been avoided. Pain becomes the driving force of their existence for a while but in the end, they put one foot in front of the other, take a deep breath and remember how to breathe.
