07/27/2013

   Plans had begun to take shape for the funeral services for the three children. The services for one of Curtis's friends would be first with the viewing on Tuesday evening and the funeral on Wednesday. Curtis's viewing would be Wednesday evening at the mortuary with the funeral service on Thursday at the United Methodist Church. The services for the daughter of the parents who had been driving would be on Friday at the same church where the Friday evening memorial service had been held. (This would give them more time to recover from their injuries.) That's right-services of one kind or another would be held on four consecutive days. We didn't really work together on that schedule, other than it was important to us that they be held individually for each child so that their common friends could attend all of the services if they wished. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to  make it through such a week. I knew I'd be there for Curtis, but it was important to me that I try to support the other families as well. We really weren't entirely sure what we wanted for Curtis's funeral. We knew we would need pallbearers. We wanted to choose some people who had been especially important in Curtis's life to deliver eulogies. We knew we would want music, both what was important to us and what he would have liked. Our oldest son was involved in the instrumental music program at the high school, and we had gotten involved with the booster program ourselves. Curtis also had joined the band program that year when the band director assured him that he would also be able to participate in sports. We had become close to many people in the band, both students and adults. Over the past few days, many of the band students had expressed a desire to honor Curtis through their talents. We thought it would be very appropriate for the drum line to play at the service since Curtis had been a part of that group. We contacted the president of the parent booster club to see if such a thing could be worked out. She was very positive that it would be no problem, but she actually had bigger things in mind. She asked us if we would be ok with us if the entire band performed at the service. She said that only using the drum line would leave out a lot of students who really wanted to honor Curtis as well. She'd already talked to the band director about it as well as the principal and people at the district office. Everyone was on board. She'd even talked to the students about it and only three students had indicated that they didn't think they could handle the situation emotionally and would prefer not to perform at the service. We were overwhelmed! We hadn't even known a thing like this was possible, let alone already in the works. However, she wasn't done yet. She also told us that if we needed a facility at which to hold a reception following the service the school had offered to open the cafeteria to us as a reception site.She also was willing to get parents from the booster club to help with acquiring and serving the food and drinks if we wanted. We were so grateful. We gladly accepted her many kindnesses. We knew we would never be able to repay her for all she was doing for us, but some years later we actually did have the opportunity to pay her back in kind. For now, we were so grateful that these things were now in her capable hands. We had no doubts that all would be done as she planned. When she set her mind to something, it got done! Other things fell into place as well. Everyone we contacted about serving as a pallbearer or to deliver a eulogy said they would be honored. We decided on the pieces of music for the service itself (besides what the band would perform) and for the viewing service. Most of the music for the funeral would be our choice. The music for the viewing time would be Curtis's favorites. We had taken care of so many more details, but it still seemed like all this was planning for a party, and when the party was over Curtis would be coming home. I think one thing that made it extra difficult to face reality was that we had not yet in all these busy, awful days actually seen our son's lifeless body. It was still too easy to fool myself into thinking that he wasn't really gone. God could still perform a miracle, couldn't He?

07/26/2013

   Monday was a national holiday-President's Day. It would have probably passed without notice since none of us had plans to go much of anywhere anyway, nor were we in much of a festive mood, obviously. It did mean, however, that since there was no school, two of my colleagues arrived at our door early in the morning bearing gifts. These two men were especially welcome, not so much for the items and messages they brought from people at my school, but because of what they themselves were able to do for us. One of them had worked for years as a police officer before going into teaching as a second career. We had already tried that morning to get information about the accident from our local police department. (I honestly don't remember exactly what we were trying to find out about, but it was important to us at the time.) We had been told that the police could not divulge that kind of information. I was feeling very frustrated. Most of the people we had had to deal with in the last few days had been extremely supportive, understanding, and helpful. Why did I feel like our local police department was always jerking us around?  Anyway, even though my friend had not worked for our local police department, he was able to get them to extend him some professional courtesy and get the information we requested. (It only took him about five minutes on the phone. Why couldn't they have just told us what we wanted to know?) My other teaching friend brought his own golden gift to us. He and his wife had lost their young son in a drowning accident several months prior to Curtis's death. He knew exactly what we going through and how we were feeling, although his son was much younger when he died than was Curtis. It helped us (as we were later often called upon to help others experiencing the death of a child) to see that it is possible, somehow, to survive a tragedy of this magnitude. My friend and his wife were still together, still breathing, still moving through life. This now meant that we directly knew five people who were bereaved parents who had found a way to go on with their lives: my mom, my friend and his wife, my wife's cousin and her husband. That gave us some hope that maybe we would manage to get through it somehow, as well. It meant so much to me that these two friends took so much time on their day off work to support and comfort us. It's never been forgotten. The rest of that day is hazy in my memory. I do remember that by this time most of our family from out of state had arrived. My brother and his wife and my sister and her partner. It was wonderful to have them with us, but at this point, I was realizing that nothing and no one could grant me the solace I most needed and wanted. I wanted and needed this nightmare to stop. I wanted and needed my son to come home.

07/25/2013

   My wife and I waited outside the church for the morning services to end so we could try to make contact with the minister. The only previous time we had been to this church was the most recent Christmas Eve service. We had been impressed with the openness of the people and the joyous atmosphere  of the service. It was a large church which we felt was important. We assumed Curtis's service would draw many people to pay their respects and say goodbye. Later, we would be proven right in this assumption. We were able to meet only briefly with the minister at this time, but he assured us that he and the church would certainly be available to us. He already knew of the accident and was very compassionate and sympathetic towards us. We set an appointment time to return on Tuesday evening to discuss what we wanted for Curtis's funeral and headed out to the cemetery. Again, the staff at the cemetery was so very kind and helpful. What we needed to do, while dealing with all three families at once, was find a spot in the cemetery where there were seven plots available, preferably side by side. We were told that we would need to exchange our three plots, then look for new spots because the parents who had been driving the car also wanted to be buried next to their daughter. This whole thing felt so bizarre. I mentioned before that both my wife and I had too much experience with this kind of situation, but except for when my older brother died in 1969 at the age of 22, we'd always been dealing with older people who had passed. We'd never really thought much at this stage of our lives about our own wishes for where we would end up when the time came, let alone try to coordinate things with other families at the same time. All of that was far off into the future, but here we were, faced with the unthinkable-again. The staff person helped us find what we required, and the new plots would only be a short distance away from our initial selections. We wrapped up the business at hand for what we hoped was the final time. I felt relieved that this part at least now appeared to be done once and for all. We headed back home. We had more relatives to pick up at the airport. We also found that we had received more flowers, plants, notes, calls, and food (we had enough fried chicken to open our own restaurant-we started sending people home with bags of chicken so it wouldn't go to waste.) Still, I did not find any of the food the least bit appealing. Again, I wondered to myself if anything would ever really be important to me again. The only thing that seemed to matter at the moment was this horrendous pain I was beginning to feel, and the emptiness deep in my soul. Keeping busy allowed me to not think about the horrible truth-was my son really gone?

07/24/2013

   Sunday morning. The first Sunday. Another day without my son. Another day of my new life. I wasn't sure how long I could keep this up. More family were scheduled to arrive today. It's funny how empty a full house can feel. I realized that I had only eaten a chicken leg and one roll since dinner on the night of the accident, but I did not feel hungry, nor did food seem the least bit appetizing. By this day people had begun bringing food to sustain us, but we were out of certain staples that we would need for our guests. It seemed pointless to me, since I had no plans to ever eat again, but I volunteered to go to the market. This was the first "normal" thing I had done in the last couple of days that was not directly connected to Curtis's death. As I picked up the few things we needed, I became more and more agitated. What were all these people doing here? Why was the store even open on a day like this? How dare they conduct business today! Didn't they realize what had just happened? Why was everyone treating this as a normal business day? By the time I got to the front of the checkout line, I was ready to explode. It was then that the checker, who often served us at this store over the years, asked the usual perfunctory question, "How are you today?" I stared at him blankly, not even able to formulate any kind of an answer. How am I? It was the first time since the accident that anyone had asked me that question.  I wanted to scream, "Why would you even ask me that? Isn't it written all over my face? How is it possible that my entire life has been ripped apart, yet everyone else be so totally oblivious to that fact? How can you not know? I'm struggling to figure out how or if I can survive this, but the rest of the world just goes merrily on?" Those were some of the things I wanted to say. Instead I just mumbled, "Fine," and got out of there as fast as I could. Of course, I realized on the way home that this was another thing I would have to get used to if I wanted to survive this whole situation. A few days later this store and its staff would support us in a way I could not have expected.
   Back at the house, we began to prepare, as best we could at this time, for the business of the day. The staff at the cemetery was willing to open the business office to accommodate our wish to have our three children buried together. However, that appointment would come later. First, my wife and I had to go to a local church to talk to the minister about the possibility of using their facilities and his services for Curtis's funeral. We had only been to this church one time before, but had really felt comfortable there.
Our home church was some 20 miles away. We wanted the services to be centered more locally so more of Curtis's friends would be able to attend. We were unsure at this point whether or not that would be possible. Eventually, things would come together in ways we could never have imagined.

07/23/2013

   When we heard that the parents were coming home, we went to our neighbor's house (this was the family who's son had also been killed in the accident), so we could all meet together for the first time. We now had such a horrible connection with each family. I had grown up with some of the people in this particular family when I was a kid before we all moved into the same area as adults. The parent who had actually been driving the car that night had also been a schoolmate of mine. It was odd how many different ways the families were connected, but it had mainly been all our children who solidified those connections. While we were waiting for the other parents to return from the hospital, we all got to talking about what arrangements had been made so far. One thing led to another, and before we knew it  our two families decided we wanted our sons to be buried together. It was at about this point in our discussions that the other two parents arrived from the hospital. I don't think they even went into their own house before coming to the neighbor's home. At first, it seemed like no one knew what to say. What was there to say? We knew they had done nothing wrong. The accident had been unavoidable due to the actions of the other driver. It was not their fault! In fact, that was everyone's basic message to them. They told us that they were fearful that everyone would hate and blame them. The wife said she had already thought that maybe they would have to move out of the neighborhood. We reassured them that none of us felt that way. We all hugged and held on to each other. Who else could understand what we were feeling? We all knew they were carrying a greater burden even than were the rest of us due to their physical injuries and the emotional load of guilt and trauma at having survived the accident that took our children from us. As we all tried to support each other, the discussion again turned to arrangements. Since they had just been released from the hospital, they had not yet considered much of anything. Now it was agreed upon that all three children should be buried together. I again felt a wave of comfort come over me. As silly as it sounds, it made me feel a little better to know that Curtis would not be alone in the cemetery. This decision did mean, however, that it would be necessary to return to the cemetery as a group to see if the staff there could make this happen for us. Something we thought we had finished was now another thing that needed to be taken care of. Again.

07/22/2013

   This very kind, compassionate woman sought us out because she wanted to make sure that we knew some things about the accident that she felt were important and would possibly bring us some small measure of comfort in the midst of the turmoil we were experiencing. She told (actually she told my wife, who passed the information on to me) that she indeed had witnessed the accident. Her account of what she had seen and done that night did bring us some relief, since she gave us details that no one else had yet given us. There were things we hadn't thought to ask the police that night, because we were in such shock, and they might not have told us anyway, since the investigation was still going on.
She saw the cars collide when a speeding car ran through the red light without trying to stop and struck broadside the car in which Curtis and his friends were riding. She thought it looked to her like the speeding car must have been going at least 70-80 miles per hour when the collision occurred. She ran to  our neighbor's car to see if anyone needed to help. She immediately saw that the parents in the front seat were obviously shaken and injured, but were alive. She then looked into the backseat where the kids were riding. She checked on the two boys (Curtis and his friend), but quickly saw that they were already gone. She then turned her attention to the girl and found a faint pulse. She called 911. She said the first responders were on the scene in a matter of minutes. The parents and their daughter were all transported to local hospitals for treatment, where Curtis's friend was later pronounced dead. The boys' bodies were awaiting pickup by the coroner's office. This was the first time we knew for sure that Curtis had never been transported to the hospital at all. That was just a charade by the police department that we had had to endure. The nurse also told us for the first time that Curtis's body was in a pristine state and was not deformed in any way. He looked like he had just fallen asleep. We had been concerned about this. Perhaps if we had known this sooner we would have pressed harder to see his body at the coroner's office, but we were fearful to see him in a mangled condition, so we had to wait several days after the accident to see our son. She told us that, in her experience dealing with victims of such violent collisions, Curtis had probably died instantly. The violent nature of such an impact causes such trauma to the body that he probably never realized what hit him, and so would have have felt no pain. She also stated that, although she couldn't know for sure, since she didn't remember hearing the sound of screeching tires she was confident that Curtis and his friends could not have seen what was about to happen, so they felt no fear just before the impact.
   Another man came to us during this time (I can't remember exactly when) and told us he also witnessed the accident. He, too, first  ran to our neighbor's car to see if anyone needed help. He also called 911. He then ran over to the car of the driver who had caused the accident and saw he was also injured, but did not seem to need immediate attention. He told the man to stay where he was and not try to go anywhere. He told us he was afraid the man would try to flee the scene. He could already hear sirens in the distance, so he knew help was on the way. He stayed by the man's car to make sure he stayed put until the police came. Both of these citizens gave their statements to the police. We were so appreciative to both of them (and others, as well) who tried to help our son that night. We were so grateful for this information, although, of course, it was very difficult to hear. At least we now knew that, apparently, our son had not felt fear nor experienced severe pain in the last moments of his life. He left this earth peacefully. That thought did bring us some comfort. This was all a lot of emotional information to deal with, but this day was not yet over. The parents who had been driving the car that night had been treated and were being released from the hospital to come home to the neighborhood.
We would have the chance to talk with them for the first time since the accident. (This was a day of firsts). I wondered what they'd be able to tell us. I wondered if they'd even want to talk to us.
We hoped they'd be up to talking with us.

07/21/2013

   The first Saturday of my new life would actually turn out to be enlightening and comforting in several ways beyond what I could have imagined when I awoke and realized anew that my son was still gone.
First of all, a friend stopped by to tell us that the memorial on the median was getting larger by the hour, so I decided to walk down to the intersection to see for myself. It was true. Even though it was still fairly early in the day, there were a lot more things that had been left than had been there the night before. This was when I found out that some of the kids' friends had been there all night, because they were able to tell me who had brought some of the objects in memory of Curtis. They'd witnessed some of the people coming and going. Secondly, as I was waiting at the traffic signal to cross the street, I felt someone hug me from behind. It happened to be an acquaintance of ours from our local baseball league with whom we had recently had some rather heated exchanges and hurt feelings due to his treatment of some of the players, including Curtis. He expressed his condolences and uttered a sort of apology for his part in what had happened during the baseball season. I didn't have any energy at the moment to continue this fight, so I accepted his sentiments and went back to waiting for the light to change. It was then that I noticed some familiar faces out on the median. They were teacher colleagues of mine who had come out to our area that day to take a test, the same test I had been studying for the night of the accident. In fact, I was supposed to have been taking the test with them that morning. Curtis had ben a student at our school up through Fifth Grade, so many of these people were not just my co-workers, but had been Curtis's teachers, as well. It was actually very good to see them and realize that Curtis had touched their lives in such a positive way. They surrounded me with their love and concern and even came back to the house to spend some time with us. They wanted to know how they and the rest of the staff  at my school  could support us.  I found their presence very comforting. While I had been down at the intersection, a visitor stopped by our house. She turned out to be a nurse who had been stopped at the intersection waiting for the signal light to change on the night of the accident. She witnessed the collision that killed Curtis and his friends. My wife finally found out a little more information about exactly what had happened to our son that night.