Remembering...

Five years ago, on July 28, my perspective on the world changed.

On July 27, 2005 my friend Angi called me.  We hadn't talked in months.  I felt a pang of sadness that I hadn't gone to her party the month before.  We had plans that night and I had been unable to make it.  Hearing Angi's voice reminded me of just how much I had missed her friendship.  We spent the better part of an hour catching up.  I told her everything that was going on with my kids, and how ready I was to give birth to Olivia.  Angi and I talked about her longing for a baby girl.  You see, at the time, she had 3 amazing boys, and she was longing for a little girl.  We talked about her boys and her summer plans, how she had gotten them season passes to Six Flags and how she was looking forward to taking them that week.  It was just so great to hear her voice and catch up.  We made plans to get together the following week.

It was the last conversation I would ever have with her.

The next day, while waiting in traffic before the Six Flags exit, her van was rear-ended by a dump truck, whose driver failed to slow with the rest of the traffic.  The van caught fire and Angi, Josh, and Jacob, along with Angi's younger brother and sister were all killed.  In an instant, so many lives were changed.  I will never forget what I was doing when I found out.  I can vividly see the furniture I was sanding when the phone rang.  It was Kris, calling me.  He had gone to help our friend Andy.  I was going to ask him to bring home some sandpaper.  But then I heard his voice and all thoughts of sandpaper were gone.  Something about his voice just didn't sound right.

Suddenly, everything felt wrong.  I asked him what was wrong and I heard him say "Josh and Jacob were killed in that car accident today."  At least, that's what I THOUGHT he said.  Immediately I said "How is Angi?"  I mumbled something about how of course she wasn't OK, having lost her two youngest boys, but Kris cut me off.  He said "Jamie!", as if he needed me to pay attention.  Then he calmly said "Angi died too."

Completely confused, I said "No she didn't.  I just talked to her yesterday."  I was in shock.  I kept replaying what Kris had told me, sure that he was wrong.  And I kept insisting "But I just talked to her."  I could still hear her voice in my ear.  I could hear her joy bursting through, because that is just how she lived.  She was happy.  She made you happy.  She was bubbly and full of life, and I just couldn't quite grasp what Kris was saying.

Once I was able to process what Kris was telling me, the reality of what it meant began to sink in.  I knew that Alex had been at camp that week.  Angi had told me the day before.  So I knew that he was alive.  I also knew that Shawn was at work that day.  And immediately my heart began to break, as I started to imagine the horror of finding out that your wife and two youngest sons were dead.  The heart-wrenching task of telling your remaining son that his mom and brothers weren't coming home.  No one should ever have to endure that kind of pain.  NO ONE.

The next few days went by in a blur.  The funeral was awful.  By far the worst experience of my life, though the memories are bittersweet, as I will forever hear Shawn saying "They gave the best hugs."  I had never seen a child's casket and I never want to see another.  I will never forget the somber tone in the church that day, as five caskets were led out to be buried.  It was horrifying.

My mind kept going back to one thing: Shawn and Alex.  Who, due to reasons that only God knows, were left to carry on in a world that would forever be marred by that day. By July 28th.  They will never view summer the same again.  They will never be able to get through the birthdays and anniversaries without remembering what they lost.  They will not be able to drive past Six Flags without remembering.  They won't be able to pass that Steak 'n Shake without knowing that there are 5 crosses in front, as a reminder of the lives that were lost.  I know this.  Because I can't.  And I was not the husband or the son that lost a wife and sons, a mother and brothers that day.

Sometimes I am overwhelmed with grief.  And I feel guilty.  For feeling sad.  For crying and feeling so deeply.  When my life wasn't impacted in the way that theirs was.  And whenever I find myself thinking about *that day*, I remember Shawn and Alex.  I remember that their pain and sorrow is so much greater than I can even begin to imagine.  And my heart breaks for them.  Yes, they have physically moved on with their lives.  They had to.  Time doesn't stop.  It moves on, and we move with it.  But when I think that five years later I still replay that day in my mind, how much moreso must they?  Most of the time, I am allowed the luxury of pushing my grief down.  I don't have to deal with the reality of it every single day like they do.  For a year after they died, I refused to go to Kris' dad's house, because I couldn't bear the thought of driving past Six Flags.  It was too painful.  I tried to avoid St. Charles, so that I wouldn't have to see the Baue Funeral Home on the right side of the highway.  If I started to think about Angi and the boys and the accident and HOW it happened, and I started to cry, I immediately forced myself to think about something else, before the pain became too much.  Now, I let the waves of sorrow crash over me.  I realized a couple of years ago that the way I was handling my own small (in comparison) grief was not healthy.  I would replay how the accident must have happened over and over again in my mind.  I would think horrible, morbid thoughts, and this is why I forced myself to just not think about it altogether.  But after a while, I realized that I had to grieve.  I had to let the feelings and sadness come and I had to learn to handle them.

It was the beginning of healing for me, a few years ago, when we stopped at that Steak 'n Shake and went to see the crosses on the side of the road.  I had to force myself to go over there.  To bend down and look at their pictures and touch their names.  Many times throughout the week, even still, I find myself thinking about Angi and the boys.  Thinking about Shawn and Alex and wondering how they are doing.  I get anxious when I think about writing about it, which is why it has taken me five years.  I feel like I have no right to feel sorrow over their deaths.  After all, I didn't lose what Shawn and Alex lost, and my grief is so minor in comparison.

But I did lose my friend.  And I miss her.  So much.  And I miss Jacob, with his fiery red hair, trying to do things for me and clamoring for my attention. I miss Josh in all of his adorableness.  I miss just sitting and talking with Angi.  I don't have very many close friends.  When I think back to the people in my life that I have really opened up to and shared my whole heart with, I can count those people on one hand.  Angi was among them.  I hate that I let months go by in between our conversations, after we started going to different churches.  I regret that I didn't do more, or make more of an effort to maintain our closeness when we weren't seeing each other every Sunday anymore.  There are so many things I could have done differently.  I know that it is pointless to think that way.  It doesn't change what happened.

To this day, I do not know why Angi called ME that day.  Of all the people she could have talked to, why me?  And yet, I'm so thankful.  I am so very grateful that I had a chance to talk to her, to hear her voice and to laugh with her, one last time.  To catch up and be reminded of what an amazing person she was, and what a blessing she was to me.  I can remember how excited I was about seeing her again, as we tried to make plans to meet the next week.  She just had that effect on people.  Or at least, she did on me.  And I miss my friend.

If there was any one person in life that I could choose to model my life after, it would be Shawn.  His road cannot have been easy.  And yet, he endures and he proclaims God's goodness over and over again.  I am amazed by this.  He will never fully know the impact he has had in so many lives, myself included.  And some day, when God calls him home to reunite him with his wife and sons, God will welcome him with open arms and say "Well done good and faithful servant."