Monday, May 18, 2009

December 1990 The passing of David Patrick Hayes

One December night I was in Denton visiting Peter. I got a call from David. He said he just wanted to tell me he loved me. I asked if he was ok and he assured me he was fine. I went to sleep. I woke to Peter's phone ringing again at 7am. It was Frank. He was crying and saying I needed to come home because David was taken away by an ambulance to Parkland Hospital. I called the hospital and was told he was in critical condition. On the way to Dallas to the hospital the song Babe by Styx came on the AM station of the 1981 Datsun 310 I was driving. The words to the song brought tears to my eyes and I remember hoping the song wasn't a sign of what was coming. It was December and it had just gotten extremely cold for the first time. Peter and I made small talk about David and the weather but mostly our eyes stayed glued to the road. We arrived at the hospital, parked and jogged across the skywalk that connects the parking garage to the hospital. I noticed how gray the sky was as we were coming to the end of the long glass walkway. I was getting a really bad feeling after hearing the song on the way, the below freezing temperature, the gloomy sky. I just didn't want to deal with anything other than David being ok. I didn't think I could deal with anything else. When we got to emergency and asked about him we got uneasy looks from a couple of nurses that were telling us where to go. Another nurse had a hard time making eye contact with me when giving me these instructions, "Go down the hall and through the first door on your left someone will be there shortly to meet you." Then she asked, "Are you a family member of Mr. Hayes?" Without any hesitation I answered, "Yes Ma'am, he is my ex lover." She seemed like she was hesitant but I'm sure the look on my face was enough for her to ignore the rules this time. Peter and I looked at each other as if to say, "oh no.....no." After about five minutes a very sweet looking but serious woman came through a different door opposite the one we had entered. She asked if she could help us. I told her we were needing to know the status of David Patrick Hayes. She paused as if it was the first time she had ever done this. Then she simply said, "I'm so sorry." another shorter pause followed and then, "He's already passed." "I'm sorry." She had such a genuine demeanor I remember wondering if she was trained to be that way or if it came natural. I turned around to leave and noticed Peter crying too. He took me home and it seems like Peter was going out of town so he dropped me off. Frank and Mary moved David's belongings down to my apartment while I put them in the right place. I didn't think it was a good idea to go down there to Davids apartment. So Frank and Mary moved the stuff into the hallway and down to my place three doors down. His was the last door on the left as you went out the front of the building. I took the back stairs out to the parking lot anyway and had no reason to go down there anymore. Frank said when the apartment manager Linda woke him early that morning she was banging on the door. She wanted him to watch Cloudy and Lil Bit until I got home. I used to leave the dogs with David when I went to Peter's to keep him company. When Frank went over to pick up the dogs the ambulance had just left. He said there was blood all over the bathroom where David had cut himself from wrist to elbow. Supposedly he did it in the bathtub then somehow called 911 and was in his bed when they got there. He died shortly after he got to Parkland.

Once all of David's belongings were in my apartment I was so tired and still not believing what had happened. Frank and Mary were concerned about me staying alone in my place but I assured them I would be ok. I thought I would be really freaked out and lonely when I was finally left alone but I was totally fine. I looked around the room at all the framed art and other nice things that belonged to David. There were books, a wood frame chair, some type of tapestry that is very old, a 14th century guilded wood mirror, linens, a television. As I was looking through all of this I realized that the aroma of patchouli and leather, the smell of David's apartment, had filled the air. David always wore patchouli oil and had once spilled it inside a leather bag. I picked up the bag and it was still stained from the spill. I was so relaxed as I laid back onto the bed. I wondered if David could see me laying there in my candle lit apartment in complete silence. If he wasn't a spirit there in the room watching over me then where was he? Why do we all have to die wondering if we will ever meet again, I wondered. I hoped the universe was taking care of him. I felt oddly comfortable suddenly, as if everything was going to be OK. I was relieved that David's suffering was over. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

3 comments:

  1. I found this post and the one before it rather moving. Thank you for sharing something so personal with us. Glad to have found your blog.

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  2. I don't read blogs. I lost my cat. I live about a mile from where you lived. I live in Briargate on Barnett Rd. I read on to see if we knew anyone in common although I am 7 years older than you and straight. It's a small world, you never know. Funny how a web search can turn up things you never thought of. Touching story. Good luck in life.

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    1. dunno if I ever answered, but either way, thanks. Good luck to you as well.

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