Seven Months Ago

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Seven months ago tonight--at this time; I was crying with my daughters, trying to comfort them as best I could. Their father had been killed just a few hours earlier.

It was Saturday, April 5. Rick had texted me about 10 that morning to say "G'Mornin'." I texted him back, "Mornin'." I texted him and asked him to call on the land line so the girls could say good morning, too. He texted back and said he was getting ready to leave for the store; he'd call once he got going.

Rick called about 10:30 and talked to the girls, then to me. I asked him if he wanted to go to church that night with us? He said most likely he would, but he wanted to get home first, shower and grab something to eat--if he didn't make it back in time, he'd meet us there.

We went about our Saturday afternoon as usual. I took a shower. The girls were on the computer. I did a couple loads of laundry. We spoke to Rick around 2-2:30 that afternoon. He was clocking out and would just meet us at church. He was going to take his time coming home. He said there too many idiots on the road already.

The girls and I left for church about 5:45. We were seated and I turned the ringer off on my phone and left it sitting on the pew--figuring Rick would text me when he got home. I received a call about 6:40, but didn't answer it--church was just finishing up. The girls and I walked out to the van and got in. I checked my voice mail. There was a message from a deputy from the Lancaster station telling me I needed to call the hospital. That was it. So, I called the number he left in the message. A woman on the phone informed me that Rick had been involved in an accident and had been killed. I went back into the church and looked for my pastor. I sent a friend out to my van to stay with the girls. I found my pastor. I was crying. I told him Rick was dead. I called the hospital back and was told the same thing I was just told 5 minutes prior. I didn't believe it. Now, I had to tell our daughters that their daddy was dead.

We (pastor, two friends and I) took the girls into the church office, sat them down and told them. I had stopped crying. I did not want to frighten them. Shelby's only question was--did her dad go to heaven? Pastor told her, absolutely. They cried. We walked out to the van. I needed to get to home. My one friend followed us home and kept the girls occupied while I made the phone calls.

I called my mom first. My friend Morgan second--she could come stay with me 'til my mom got here. I called Rick's son Ryan in Colorado. I asked him if he wanted me to call his sister--he said he would. I called Rick's brother--asked him if he wanted me to call their parents--he said he would. I called Michele--couldn't get a hold of her--left a voice mail. Rick's brother called me back and asked if there was a number he could call to get more information. I said, No--I told him everything I knew. He never asked about his nieces. To be honest with you, I don't know who else I called after that. I was numb. I was heart broken for our babies.

The girls waited for Grammie (my Mom) to get there before they finally nodded off to sleep. I didn't sleep that night. I don't know what I did.

People often speak of hell on Earth. I have been there. I don't like it. I don't want it anymore.

I am a widow at 36. My daughters have no father. Shelby is 9 and Sydney is 6.