[NF] Be Happy at All Times. be happy at all times never stay angry, hold grudges, or talk badly about someone else find a way to love everyone and tell them why you do today friday october 17th 2014 will hold the title for the day the most intense thing has ever happened to me. the day started off normally as any day on the golf course would. the day before, thursday, we had done most of the hard work around the course, i had string line trimmed the edge and banks of the sand bunkers and finished the day spraying ponds… no easy task! when i arrived friday morning and parked in my usual spot by the entrance to the shop, i was greeted by my coworker Mike. He looks to be 55, heavy set but not fat, balding head with white hair he covers with a faded blue baseball cap, grey shirt and blue jeans. “Did ya work hard yesterday?”, he asks somewhat mockingly, I ignore the jest. Gathering the things for the day from my car, with my back to the entrance i hear him again. “yo dom, did you guys work hard yesterday?” i’m not sure if he is just joking, or whole-heartedly is curious. sharply, i say “yea man we weed whacked trap bank edges, got sand in my eye and shit, thats probably why you called out yesterday, to avoid the hard work!” mike explains his wife actually had a bad fall and was bruised and he needed to stay home to help her. makes me feel like shit for accusing him of calling hookie, so i apologize and brush it off. Start of the day, i am to mow fairways on the back nine, have my first two fairways done and i am half way through my third. I see my coworker mike again coming along the cart path, i have to look forward to continue to mowing a straight line but i acknowledge him with a head nod, and out of the corner of my eye, i see he does the same. I finish mowing the first half of the fairway and start to mow the other half about 10-15 minutes after i first saw mike. As i go to empty the grass clippings my fairway machine collects, i see mikes cart. At first i think nothing of it and begin to empty the buckets of grass clippings… the fairway mower has 5 buckets to empty. i empty the first bucket, go to put it back in its place and think to myself “that is a curious place to park your cart” i write it off, “maybe he parked there to stay out of the mud, and walked his mower to where he was working”…. grab and empty the second bucket, “i don’t see him anywhere near this cart and its not exactly the closest spot to where he should be going” replace the second bucket and start emptying the third “maybe he is just taking a bathroom break, there are some trees near there, thats probably what he is doing”. third and fourth bucket emptied and replaced… i reach for the 5th bucket “well if he is taking a piss i will be able to see him from here, or he will eventually have to walk back to his cart” replace the 5th and final bucket and begin to climb onto my machine. the machine’s seat holds you a good 4 feet off the ground so the perspective from there is much better and i can see that on the back of mike’s cart is the machine he is supposed to be mowing with. i stand up on my machine to see even further, i don’t see him anywhere near the cart or in the woods peeing, or on his phone by a tree or anything. i don’t see mike at all, it looks like he just disappeared! i hope off my mower and start walking towards his cart. I’m squinting my eyes and scanning the landscape trying to find him. his cart is parked by a few big rocks at the corner of a hair pin turn. the top of #14 tee to be exact, and beside the cart is what looks to be those grey stones. i am walking towards the cart, staring at the stone closest to the cart. i take a quick paced step once i see the stone looks to be too large to be the stones i know to be placed there. like seeing lightning strike in front of you, in a flash i realize that is not a stone, an instant passes, and the roaring thunder of realization comes with a fast growing rumble, and an ear shattering and unstoppable crash of understanding. beside the cart, laying on the ground, is my co-worker mike. my very next step is fully extended and propels me forward, my legs are stretching and throwing my body forward at full speed. i am running as fast as i possibly can and realizing more with each pounding step, mike is on the ground, why is mike on the ground, i hope he is just stuck or can’t get up, he’s face down. Oh my god, he is face down! i send the signal to my legs, FASTER - NOW FUCKERS - MOVE ITTTT!!, they can’t move any quicker, they are at maximum speed, i stretch my legs to increase my gait. i can’t get to mike quick enough, he is less than 50 feet away and it is taking AGES to get to him. I’m screaming his name now, screaming and running and i can’t get there fast enough. finally I’m right over him, immediately i can see the back of his shaved head is purple. i flip mike over screaming for him to respond, hoping, praying, pleading that i will turn him over and he will be breathing. when i roll mike over and saw his face it uncontrollably shocked me. i didn’t have time to be taken back or even react to it, just a momentary pause for the flood of emotions to be processed. i had smashed through the glass and into chaos, utter despair, pure horror and fear. Mike’s face was more purple than the back of his head. his face had been smushed against cold solid mud, it hadn’t stuck to him or gotten into his nose, but his cheek and upper lip looked smushed, his nose too one nostril held closed against the ground. the impression the ground left on his face did not immediately snap into place. slowly the skin faded to it’s original resting place, but it was still off. his face looked distorted, wrong, purple and smushed, his eyes half-open half-closed and completely expressionless. he was always smiling or showing how he felt right on his face, big cheesing smile, round cheeks and bright eyes behind his glasses. t didn’t look like him, wasn’t alive like he was, it was flattened and dull, emotionless and frozen. i caught myself honestly questioning if this was even mike. there was no way to escape the cold hard truth, it was mike, and he was in extremely bad shape. before i had even seen mikes face, before i even knelt beside him, somewhere along the never ending run i had realized already what was going on and what i had to do. my brain was making checklists, ordering them for me and coming up with instructions for my consciousness to eventually follow once it had caught up to the realization of what needs to be done. i had wasted so much time it felt like, i had JUST turned him over, JUST slid next to his side and still i felt like it was forever ago i realized he needs help and what needed to be done was already behind schedule. fumbling and crying and screaming i paw for my phone. I’m about to be an emotional mess i think to myself. another part of me is impatient, and it takes over, i dial 9-1-1 for emergency help for the first time in my life. press enter, there is no ringing or waiting, at least that i remember, it seemed as if i was instantaneously connected and a woman was asking me “where is the location of your emergency” i’m flooding her with information, a constant stream of consciousness frantic at first and then steady and continuous flow. “1800 tournament drive off of 202. its blue bell country club, but that is the address for the main building, we are out on the course.” I am talking right over her questions, comprehending them seconds later and without pause answering them in a constant flow of words. ambulance is on it’s way and i want to start compressions, i’ve already been trying while the 911 operator was getting the information from me. i ask her to instruct me to give cpr, i have half an idea what i am supposed to be doing and have been doing it and continue to as she describes to me the process. i am impatient and keep telling her to start counting out when i should be doing compressions, finally she gets to it: “1,2….3,4….5,6…..7,8….” i can feel his rib break, it’s disturbs me but i’ve heard that is better to have a broken live and be alive. i have the operator on speakerphone and I’m giving mike chest compressions. “…hands right between his nipples, pushing with the heel of your palm, use both hands to compress the chest two inches downward.” we count 100 compressions and check for a response, count to 100, and check for a response. before the first 100 is complete i can hear sirens coming. I’m so happy someone is coming and it encourages me. i look at mikes smushed purple face, nothing moves except when i compress his chest, and it deflates me again. I wish someone else would do this or i could just stop and cry about it but the part of my that feels that way is not physically in control of my body. i check his mouth and keep saying his name. my body is in control of doing compressions, my mind is listening to the operator for cues when to send the signal to my body, and i am staring at mikes face. I’m feel I’m not even doing the compressions, really I’m not, I’m unable to do that, I’m looking over my own shoulder, crying, sobbing, drumming up and pushing down ebbs and flows of hope and despair, my weaker self incapable of anything but encouraging my mind and body to continue. i am shattered, in shambles, suddenly I’m sucked back into my own body: desperately trying to make my compressions where they are supposed to be, as deep as they are supposed to be, on perfect timing with the operators instructions, acting with determination and courage. it has already dawned on me, and i refused to to swallow it, so i spit it back out. mike is dead. i knew it from the second i rolled him over to see the grotesque purple smushed face. mike is dead and there is nothing i can do, it was too late from even the moment i saw him. he has laid face down for too long. i deny it and deny and and still to this moment right now writing this i want nothing more than to believe he will be ok. i want him to be ok, i beg for him to be ok, i would do backflips and marry this man if he is alive and i will never lose contact with him… but very sadly, very hard to admit, or to say, or to let myself think… out of fear that believing it alone might make it true, or that not acknowledging if he is alive or not may give him advantage. mike is not ok, mike will not start breathing, mike has died. i am full. i have already eaten to my capacity, i am not hungry at all. in fact the sight of food, even the thought, makes me sick! and now, laying before me is a full feast for an army. each bite is force fed to me, spooned in my mouth and forced down my throat. his purple smushed face, a huge chunk to swallow, i can’t please no more. i already have a stomach full of my own problems, my own stress, my own emotional turmoil. one more bite! forced into me, so much to digest and i don’t want it. i have enough already. each spoonful bigger then the last. i refuse, i won’t even think about it, focus on something else. time inevitably passes and i forget to keep forgetting what happened. a thought slips in, the worst are the images, tactile memories, very small, seemingly insignificant details are the biggest pieces, dense and heavy, hard to digest. i can’t seem to even get them past my mouth, i keep tasting them over and over, just want them to be in, so they can be closer to being let go. mike was happy all day, literally said “no one can bring me down today” he was singing all morning, happily accepted what everyone would agree is a hard job, even took the hardest route of that job. this started out well written and I’ve given up, i just want the words to be here before i devote my mind to forgetting them all. so sad. i want to put in here too but i can’t find a segway. chuck talked to mike when he drove by him, told him he didn’t look good and should take it easy or take a rest, mike said he was working hard and sweating but it was “good exercise” i thank all my lucky stars that mike was in a really good mood, and hope that he was at least happy. i really want nothing more than for mike to be alive. i can’t help but think that he is dead. i want him to come back, i hope to everything and anything wether i believe or not, i hope and beg anything, anyone anywhere please let mike live. let him come back to life and be ok! be happy at all times never stay angry, hold grudges, or talk badly about someone else tell everyone that you love exactly how you feel about them be happy at all times, to the best of your ability make friends and strive to keep them tell people when they do good please and thank you i love you be happy at all times