Kobayasi Maru

The no win scenario.

I've lost track of how long it's been. Standing here in front of these three graves, my mind tries to remember. Years at least, maybe a decade. I can't pin it down. Life has been a gray, dismal nightmare lacking both meaning and purpose.

The last happy memory I have was the four of us, my wife Michelle and our two kids, Ian, ten and his sister Katie, eight and myself. We were returning home after a much needed and well deserved vacation. A week at Disney World and a seven day cruise on one of their ships, the Fantasy if I recall correctly.

We were in high spirits as we drove home, recalling some of the highlights of the trip and planning a repeat next year.

I was momentarily distracted as I talked with Ian, seated behind his mother, or I might have had more time to react. When I returned my attention to the road ahead, it was already too late.

The semi had already crossed the median, its 70 MPH speed barely slowed by the dive through the grass. Michelle screamed and I had only a split second to decide our fate.

If I turned away from the behemoth rapidly filling my windshield, it would broadside us. We would be little more than a speed bump to the out of control monster.

That left one option. Still a bad one, at least for me. I turned into the beast, trying to hit it off center with the driver's side taking the hit head-on. I knew I wouldn't survive, but I hoped to save my family, at least the kids.

I have little memory of the following events other than I awoke in a hospital bed some time later only to discover I was the sole survivor of the crash.

I still don't understand how that was possible. It defied any logic I could apply. The more questions I asked, the fewer plausible answers I got.

It didn't seem that I'd been hospitalized very long, though I never did get a solid timeline. I appeared to be uninjured or had recovered from my injuries with no lasting impairment or scars. Questions to the medical staff were largely answered with jargon and incomprehensible medical terms. It only served to make me confused and angry.

Eventually, I was released. More accurately, I was removed from the facility forcibly when I stated I wasn't leaving until I got some answers.

I don't recall how I got home. It just seems I was there. It wasn't much of a home any longer with no one there to share it with. I was alone. Days turned to weeks, then months. Gray, empty. I existed. Beyond that, there was nothing else.

Sleep was not my friend. Nightmares haunted me. My family stood before me, weeping. I couldn't hear them but I was sure they were blaming me for killing them. I know I blamed myself. Usually I'd awaken in a sweat soaked bed screaming for them to forgive me.

I went through the motions. I tried to move on, I really did, but I just couldn't let go of the guilt. Every holiday, birthday, anniversary or when I was especially lonely, I could be found at the cemetery pleading with the silent tombstones to remove this pain from me.

It didn't work. Not sure why I expected it would.

The dreams continued.

Over time they started to change. It was subtle at first, almost unnoticeable. Michelle would come to me as I lay in bed and just as she leaned down and started to whisper something in my ear, I'd wake up. Each dream brought her closer and closer. Try as I might, I just couldn't remain asleep and let her complete her message. I longed to hear her voice once more, even if it was only a dream.

Months, years this went on only to have me wake up just as her lips touched my face. I was certain my mind would shatter if this went on much longer.

Again in the dream, I'm in bed, I think. This time is different. Soft music is playing and I feel calm and serene. The room is bathed in warm, ever brightening sunlight. The world has color and life. Something that has not happened since the accident. People are milling about, murmuring and I see my wife and children standing by the bed. I try to rise, but I can't move nor can I speak. Eventually, Michelle looks over at me and smiles sadly. She approaches the bed and leans down but this time she places a soft kiss on my lips and speaks quietly. Finally! My prayers are answered. As the light overtakes me, I hear.

"Good bye my husband. Thank you for saving us. I love you. I will always love you."