I wanted to share my recent experience. I’m not sure how it’s possible, or why, but I know what it wants, and I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.
I’m currently in the 3rd trimester of my first pregnancy. My partner passed away suddenly 2 weeks after we found out I was pregnant. My mom offered me my old room back in her house so I wouldn’t be alone, but I can’t bear to leave our home. All my memories of us here together are too precious to me to leave just yet.
My family and in-laws live in a different state. It’s about a 9 hour car ride from door to door, or a 2 hour flight. The empty house has been pretty isolating, but I’ve managed to keep myself busy. I’ve had a difficult pregnancy health wise from the stress, and with the loss of my partner I’ve been given leave to work from home. I can’t bring myself to finish the shows he and I started, so I find myself doing little tasks; reading books and lately, doing puzzles.
I really enjoy the distraction of immersing myself fully in a massive jigsaw puzzle. The satisfaction of finishing one just lifts my spirits. I’ve gone through nearly every puzzle I can get my hands on, and have practically picked the shelves of target clean.
A few days ago, my elderly neighbor passed, and her daughter did a garage sale shortly to clean out some of her belongings. Her mother had an extensive puzzle collection. I bought the lot of them, much to her surprise, as they were all vintage and over 1000 pieces. I thought they would make nice art pieces to frame once they were completed.
I was looking through my new finds when I spotted one in particular that caught my eye. The box didn’t have a picture, it just said ‘CAN YOU SOLVE ME? IMPOSSIBLE PUZZLE’ in bold letters across the front. There were no further details except that it was over 1000 pieces. I was intrigued and decided to crack open the dusty old box and give it a shot.
I began looking over the pieces, sorting them into piles according to shape and color as usual, when I noticed they were mostly black and oddly colored. Lots of red. I couldn’t figure out what the picture was supposed to be. I guess that’s what makes it an ‘impossible puzzle’. I’ve been working on it tirelessly for days. It’s like I feel compelled to complete it. It’s really been helpful for me since getting up in the morning has been hard since my partner passed. It’s like it gave me a purpose, small as it may be.
For some context, my husband was hit by a drunk driver five minutes from our house while heading home from dinner with his brother. I heard the impact and came outside before our neighbors ushered me back inside, saying I didn’t need to see. His mother wanted him to be cremated, and after talking to the funeral director, I agreed. Apparently he didn’t look like himself, and open casket wasn’t an option. I don’t know exactly how he died in the crash, and I don’t think I want to. I stay awake at night picturing it. They say your imagination makes it worse, but I have this gut feeling that the reality was worse than anything my mind could cook up. At least I have some small piece of him living inside of me. I’m having a girl, I think I’m going to use his middle name, James, as her middle name. I want her to have as much of him in her life as she can, even if he can’t be with us in person.
Yesterday afternoon I got about a fourth of the way done with the puzzle. It was starting to take shape, but I couldn’t tell what exactly it was. It’s very fuzzy, like the image was moving when it was taken. It looks a bit like a photograph. I could vaguely make out that the subject is male with dark hair, but I couldn’t make out any other features. That was until today.
I worked through the night, stopping only for very frequent bathroom breaks and a few peanut butter sandwiches, my latest craving. I managed to nearly finish the puzzle, save for 6 pieces.
I can’t finish it.
It’s a male subject, brown hair, in a gray heathered shirt and blue jeans. I know that shirt, I washed it a million times.
It’s my husband. It’s the crash. I don’t know how it’s possible but the puzzle made a perfect photo of the impact. He’s halfway out the windshield, his head spun nearly all the way around, eyes rolled back, lower half split open at the waist by the glass and the force of his ejection. His limbs are contorted in every direction but the ones they should be going in. There’s so much blood. God, there’s so much blood. He’s ripped open like a gutted fish. I can see he’s in pain, horrible excruciating pain. I can hear it, I can smell the gas, the blood, the impact, the screams, the sirens. It’s like it’s coming to life around me. It made me want to die.
I can’t put the final pieces in. I don’t want to. I know I don’t want to see the full image, but it’s like something beyond me is forcing my hand. The puzzle is on the floor in the living room, the final 6 pieces sat beside it in order. I can’t tear my eyes away. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I must finish it. I have to. I understand now. I understand why it’s impossible to solve. It isn’t that it’s hard to do, or tedious or too long, it’s that whatever it shows you, you cannot bear to see.
I don’t know what I should do now. If I don’t complete it, I know something bad will happen. It’s this feeling of impending doom I can’t shake. But if I do will I be able to handle what I see? I don’t know anymore. I just don’t know.