This is an exciting and sad day. Today we have our last story from the students at the school my friend teaches at. Today the story is about Jed’s father and is written by Abigail L. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I did.
By Abigail L.
I loved my wife. I thought I could protect her from anythin’,but I was wrong. She was stolen from me by my own child, if I could even call ‘em that. She was fine for most of the pregnancy, but, towards the end, she got real sick. I did everything I could do, I called the doctor in every week, sometimes every other day, but he couldn’t do anything for her. The doctor said that she probably wouldn’t make it, and neither would the baby, but I didn’t believe ‘em. She would get through this, she had some problems with my other children, but she pulled through, she was so strong. I remember her telling me about what she wanted me to do when she was gone, she never spoke like that before. She said no matter what, she still loved her unborn child. I didn’t believe her, how could she? She couldn’t love this “thing” that could possibly kill her. I know that if she knew she would have died, she wouldn’t have love that boy of mine.
I remember her in pain, every day. I wanted so badly to take the pain from her, but I just knew that I couldn’t. She kept saying she knew where she was going, and that I wouldn’t be able to take the pain from her, she said only one person could, Jesus. How could she tell me this?! Who is this Man that is going to take her pain away? If anyone was goin’ to take her pain away, it was me. What I never got was why she didn’t find this guy and have Him take her pain. Most of the time, I could read my wife, she was so easy to read, but this time, I couldn’t.
She kept getting worse, after a while, she couldn’t even get up from bed. My daughters were making food by this time, but no one, not even my daughter, could make as good of food as my beautiful wife. She was thankful to everyone for everything, not a single act went by that she didn’t give thanks for, and that included being sick. Each day she grew more content with the fact that she wouldn’t make it. I don’t know how she knew she wouldn’t make it. Did she just give up on hope? No, she couldn’t have, she was… happy. With each passing day, she grew more beautiful, even though she was sick.
Then the day came. The moment of truth. Will she make it? We wouldn’t be able to tell until it was all over. She was always strong, she could overcome anything. But this time, she wouldn’t. She gave birth to my son. She held him, even though she could barely lift her arms. I told her she should rest, and that when she would wake up, she could hold him. But no, she was going to hold him. She said she had to. She took him in her arms and smiled. She was so happy with him. She just kept smiling until her face hurt, and then she started to cry. She said she was never going to see him grow up, she was never going to see any of her children get married. Suddenly, she stopped crying. She said that this boy was going to be perfect. She said he was her Beloved. I felt envious of this boy that was taking my wife’s last moments, her last words were going to this boy. I said she needed to sleep, so I roughly grabbed the boy out of her arms. She didn’t have enough energy to resist.
She whispered an inaudible word to me. I crouched down next to her and asked her what she said. She said, “Jed, the Lord’s Beloved.” And with those few word’s she died. She said nothing to me. She only spoke of the child. The child that was just fine, but she was dead. The child was alive and well, nothing was wrong with him! Why couldn’t it be him not her, why couldn’t he be dead, and she be alive! I half handed, half threw the baby boy to my daughter and stormed out of the house.
I didn’t say any more than ten words to Jed until he was two. I hated him. There was nothing and no one who could change my mind. He killed my wife. I will never forgive him for it. When he came to me one day to try to impress me yet again, I hit him. I couldn’t stop myself, blow after blow, hit after hit. I kept hitting him until my arms and legs tired. He was on the ground, crying and screaming. I walked away. I didn’t want to even look at the mistake that was lying on the ground. I didn’t even feel sorry for him.