Poor No More
by Melanie Hemry
Tommy Smith dropped a stack of bills on the kitchen table and buried his head in his hands. How could so many hopes and dreams go up in smoke so fast? From the bedroom he heard the broken sobs that seemed never-ending. The sound of Pam’s heartbreak was just about the saddest thing he’d ever heard.
Well, except for the clods of dirt hitting the casket of his firstborn son. That may have been the loneliest, saddest sound of all.
Two years ago when they married, life had stretched out before Tommy and Pam like a promise—golden with hope. No two people had ever been happier than they were when Pam conceived a child. They’d marveled and rejoiced at every milestone along the way. Every flutter of movement, every kick, had been a celebration. From assembling the crib to buying blankets and clothes for the little guy, they had loved every moment.
Jonathan’s birth had been a rollercoaster of emotions. Overwhelming joy had faded to shock as he struggled to breathe. Tommy still shivers at memories of the sound of the ambulance as it screamed away from the local hospital in Fayette, Ala., carrying its precious cargo. Admitted to Children’s Hospital in Tuscaloosa, Jonathan had undergone surgery.
Three days later he died. As if the nursery and crib weren’t reminders enough of their loss, the seemingly endless number of medical bills arriving in the mail added to it. Tommy leafed through them, feeling overwhelmed. Hospital bills. Ambulance bills. Surgeon’s bills. Neonatal ICU. Thank God for all the premiums they had paid for insurance through his job.
Sifting through the mail one day, Tommy found a letter from their insurance company. He read it through the first time without comprehending. Hands trembling, he read it again.
8 : BVOV : Jan '14
