I decided that hospital food was so awful because most of the people who ate here lacked taste buds and didn't demand a change. The smell of the dim cafeteria reminded me of the smell when Justin and I would go to the dump – rotten decaying trash. However, I had to eat something, even if the food did smell like it had been sitting in the dumpster for multiple days.

Numbly, I remembered ordering a club sandwich from the sandwich station and scooping out a bowl of soup at the salad station. Then trying the sandwich and pushing the plate away, the slimy meat deterring my grumbling stomach. The soup wasn't much better, it was tasteless and thick, but it was better than stale bread and fishy tasting mayo.

Lost in thoughts of an already overwhelming day, I laughing slightly as I looked at my phone. It was only ten in the morning. No wonder the bread was stale and the soup a big bog of slime. Hopefully, it was yesterdays, and once lunch time came around, they would have fresh food. Watching the kitchen staff, though, my hope was dashed; I was pretty sure the food was always this inedible.

Looking down at the bowl of oily concentrated beef and vegetable soup, I was somewhat relieved to see that I had eaten half the bowl. Nausea rolled through my stomach as I pushed away the rest of the uneaten food, making a mental note to stop at the store tonight and pick up some snacks .

Hell, I thought (feeling somewhat uneasy about using the word hell), maybe I'll lose a few pounds from the lack of an appetite. I smirked at my resistance to use "bad" words. Having grown up with boys who were much older than me, I was used to hearing curse words. Before having children, I could swear like a sailor, sometimes even shocking myself when the words came out. But that changed once I became a mom. It had been adorable when Jace mispronounced 'duck' but as the kids got older, I always made sure to correct them.

Justin and I had agreed to keep all conversations in the house, and anywhere within hearing distance of the children, child-appropriate. It was my preference to not have such words come out of my mouth.

My body sagged in the uncomfortable metal chair. I thought the hospital would invest in chairs that provided some ease, but from what I'd seen, the hospital hadn't been updated since the late sixties or early seventies. My eyes were heavy from a restless and sleepless night filled with nightmares. Sleep had eluded me for most of the night, which I was grateful for, as every time I dared to close my eyes, I saw Justin flying through the air. I believed I could imagine the pain he felt and the fear that shot through him. It scared me.

After returning home last night, throwing my untouched food on the counter, and climbing into bed with my laptop, I had Googled the accident, curious to see if it had made the news. It had. My heart dropped even more when I read the story, and anger flared when I saw the comments below the story. People were callous:

Just another leech on society.

Why should the people of the United States pay for his medical care since he wasn't wearing a helmet?

Another meathead falling off his bike.

The comments didn't end. I kept revisiting the urge to reply to the comments, reminding people that Justin was a human being, a father, a husband, someone's son and brother. I wanted to post a picture of our insurance card, showing people that no, he wouldn't be a leech on government-issued health care.

I didn't post anything though. Instead, I shut down my laptop, but the words of the article flew through my head... Eye witnesses say he flipped through the air three times, each time hitting the road with his head... He flew off his bike like a ragdoll... He saw the curb and tried to stop...

It sickened me.

Now, I laid my head on my arms that were folded on the table, my body slumped in the chair, and closed my eyes for a minute. Just a minute.

The hum of the conversations around me relaxed my mind; gave it something else to think about. For a moment, I forgot where I was.

Somewhere between receiving and somewhat eating the food, I lost track of time. Panic seared through me. How long had I been gone from Justin's side? Had the results come in yet?

The small metal table, matching the gray metal chairs, vibrated underneath me as my phone came alive next to my resting head. I sat up abruptly, dizziness taking over for a spell. I watched, in slow motion, the can of Coke I had brought with lunch fall off the table. It burst open, spilling forth its contents; it made a fizzing sound as the brown liquid pooled. It reminded me of my life at this moment. The Earth had shaken my steady, peaceful life. I no longer had control. Curiously, I wondered: if I popped my top, would I explode like the can of Coke?

Making a mental note in my already scrambled brain, I told myself to stop and get a bottle water and a bag of ships before heading back up to Justin's room.

After yesterday's long day, with my phone dying before noon, I remembered this morning to pack a bag with everything I wished I'd had yesterday: phone charger, novel, magazines, laptop, file containing past health history for Justin, hair ties, a hoodie, and baby wipes (because sitting in a hospital that's full of germs made me feel filthy by the end of the day). Yet, somehow, I forgot the water and snacks.

I had felt so prepared that morning, prepared for the day, positive of a wonderful outcome. Justin was going to be awake and be his usual positive self. I expected him to be in lots of pain, but he would push past the pain and be himself again. Happy. Positive. Alive.

I fought hard to hold onto those positive feelings, to push past all the negative thoughts and feelings that whizzed by me, to keep them at bay while I fought even harder to believe that the outcome wouldn't be as bad as the little voice inside my heart said it would be.

It's funny, your whole life you are told to believe in hope and have a positive outlook on everything. Everyday people reposted on Facebook positive thought evoking memes, encouraging you to stay positive and be grateful so that in return the universe will grant the same in your life. Positive breeds positive, negative breeds negative. When had I ever told the universe through any of my actions that I wanted this?

Miracles happen every day, I chided to myself when the doubting cloud of negativity hovered over me again.

"Positive thoughts and prayers," I had whispered to Jenna and Jace over the phone when I'd called them this morning. They were spending the day with Lydia and her husband, Zach. Zach had promised to come relieve me at some point today so I could come home and see Jenna and Jace.

"The kids had a rough night," Zach had said, "but they survived it by watching Star Wars and Pirates of the Caribbean while eating slightly burnt popcorn covered in extra melted butter."

A smile had bit into my tense face when Zach told me that. Justin loved his popcorn smothered in extra melted butter and the kernels slightly burnt.

The phone shaking the metal table startled me out of my thoughts, rushing me back to the present. Glancing at my phone, relief flew through me. Charlie was calling. His and Susan's plane was supposed to be in some time that morning. Susan had called me last night with the details, in between silent sobs. Although, I couldn't remember the details besides that my in-laws were going to rent a car and come straight to the hospital when they landed. Times and other flight details were forgotten the moment I'd hung up the phone. I had been holding Justin's hand while talking to her Susan, barely even hearing her as I silently counted each breath Justin took.

Finally, I answered the call.

"Hello," I murmured quietly into the phone, making sure to whisper so as not to disturb anyone else in the cafeteria. The small cafeteria was tiny and snug for such a large hospital, especially for claiming to be the best trauma hospital in South Texas. The hospital was in the middle of extensive renovations, which it dearly needed. Hopefully, the cafeteria was one of the areas being fixed up to current standards.

I pushed out a breath of air, forcing myself to believe that I wouldn't be here to see if they did modernize the cafeteria.

"Where are you?" Charlie's gruff voice said at the other end of the line.

"In the cafeteria, basement level. Justin went in for an MRI." I breathed into the phone. His son was in a motorcycle accident and in the ICU; he had reason to be gruff and abrasive. I decided to excuse the behavior for the time being and not take it personally like I usually did.

"We'll see you." His voice had softened, still raw, but gentler.

A couple of minutes later, I looked up and saw them at the entrance of the cafeteria. My legs lifted me as I shrugged my bag over my shoulder and found the strength to walk towards them. The urge to hug them, to be hugged in return by someone who felt the same grief and worry as I felt, was overwhelming, to say the least.

At that moment, all I wanted was to bury myself in their arms. It didn't matter that Charlie only just tolerated me and Susan always gave me "hints" on how to be a better wife and mom. All that mattered was feeling like everything was going to be okay, or at least to be able to believe that we would all be okay. For some reason, I felt that just by being next to them everything would be okay.

The barricade of emotions broke through me as Susan and Charlie took me into their arms. The feeling of being completely alone and all the uncertainty about the future I had been feeling for the past twenty-four hours drained away. The shock of Charlie hugging didn't register with me. He had never hugged me before; it had always been a pat on the pack and a brusque "Hi" or "See you later."

I questioned myself quickly: Is this the reason why Justin was in an accident? To bring us all closer?

My legs felt weak, and I knew if the two of them hadn't been holding me, I would have fallen. Thankfulness for having them so close seared through me. I had so much to be grateful for, and I was grateful for everything in my life. Never once did I forget to say thank you to the world, each day showing my appreciation. Yet this feeling I had inside of me felt more alive and powerful than anything I'd felt before.

Perhaps I should have tried harder to have a better relationship with Justin's family before now. Maybe his accident was my fault. Had I been more open and willing to try harder, perhaps the universe wouldn't have caused the accident in order to bring us all together.

Hope swam through me; I hoped Charlie would take the lead on Justin's medical care, make the decisions, and figure out what needed to be done. I prayed he would. I didn't know what questions to ask or even what I should be doing. I would let him take over. It was okay, any other time I would have fought for control, knowing that I knew what was best, Justin was my husband, but right now I needed Charlie to make the decisions, to ask the questions, to be the leader. Once Justin was home and healthy, I would take back the reigns, but until then, I just wanted to know I wasn't making the wrong decisions.

"Let's go up to Justin's room. Hopefully, the MRI results are back," I said hoarsely, pulling away from the warm embrace, and instantly missing its warmth.

Wiping away the last remnants of tears, I waited for them to leave, hesitantly asking myself if I really wanted to know the results. By not facing the truth, I could continue to pretend that life would return to normal.

I slowly followed the retreating figures of Justin's parents, following them back to reality, away from my fantasy that life would once again return to how it should be.