Halloween has never been one of my favorite holidays, but last year it really took a turn for the worst. My fiancé and myself were leaving a party about midnight, when a drunk driver hit us head on.
I was in a drug-induced coma for ten days from head injuries. When I woke my thoughts were foggy. Slowly I realized I was in the hospital; the accident flooded back to my mind. I remembered seeing headlights coming toward us, screaming, then nothing else until this moment. My mother stood over me and alerted the nurse that I was waking up. They hovered over me, as I looked up at them. I tried to talk but the ventilation tube didn't allow it. They removed it when I struggled to talk.
"Where's Jonathan?"
My mother's eyes filled with tears, "He's gone honey."
"Noooo!"
"I'm so sorry baby girl, he was killed on impact. He didn't suffer."
I rolled my head to the side and stared at the wall, unable to speak. I wanted to die too. I wanted to be with Jonathan. Tears flowed down my cheek, while Mom continued to hold my hand and cry with me.
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Slowly but surely I grew stronger each day, but my heart felt broken. I didn't get to attend Jonathans funeral, so it still didn't seem real to me. After extensive physical therapy on my left arm, that was shattered and pinned, I began to resume some function. Six months later I was as good as I would ever be. The head injuries left no permanent damage but my arm would never be the same. Scars covered my forearm where I apparently held up my arm to shield myself from impact, as well as the scar from the pins they used to save it. It was bad enough losing Jonathan, but ever time I looked at my arm it was a constant reminded of that night.
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Mom and my friends encouraged me to date. They said it would help lift my spirits. I knew they were right. I had to give up the pain I felt from losing Jonathan, but it was so hard. So much time had passed with therapy and recovery, before I knew it Halloween was right around the corner again. How on earth could I sit and hand out candy to kids remembering last year? I needed to, because I needed a new memory... something good.
I went to Mom's and helped her feed all the little ghosts and goblins. It was nice and fun, but it was also a much needed diversion. After we finished with the trick or treaters I told Mom I was going home.
"Are you sure you don't want to stay honey?"
"Nah, I'm fine... really."
"Ok, be careful."
I don't know what made me do it, but I had to return to the scene of the accident. I couldn't tell Mom my plans. She would worry too much and this was something I needed to do alone. Driving toward the destination, tears began to stream down my cheeks. I felt like I needed to return, to say goodbye to Jonathan. As I got closer I felt anxious, most likely a posttraumatic response.
When I was close I pulled off the side of the road to park. My headlights shown on the white wooden cross Jonathans family put at the sight of the accident in memory of him. I flipped off my headlines, turned off the car and walked to it. The full moon illuminated the area enough for me to see. With streaks of tears on my cheeks, I touched the cross, running my fingers over his name written on it. My legs buckled and I dropped to kneel by his marker.
"Why, Why, WHYYYYYY?"
I was sobbing so hard; I didn't hear the person behind me. A hand touched my shoulder. I turned to see Jonathan. Everything went black.
I woke with my head lying in his lap along the roadside. He stroked my hair and smiled at me.
"Jonathan?"
"Yes Angela."
"How can this be?"
"Shhhh, it's ok baby."
"No please, Jonathan, this can't be. You're dead!"
"Tonight is the night that ghosts come out baby."
"You're a ghost?"
