This time six years ago, I had no
idea that my family’s normal life was about to change forever. My brother,
Jared, and I have the best parents any two kids could ever wish to have. We are
loved, have always had more than we needed, were raised in church, and provided
with the best education money could buy in our area. We were taught to never go
to bed mad, and to always make sure that the last thing we said to each other
was “I love you.” I’ve never doubted my parents’ wisdom, but that has proved to
have been among the best things they instilled in us.
To make a very long story short,
God’s plan for my life has never been more clear. During college, I married a
successful, older man, got a teaching job at a prestigious school, and had a
great life in Mobile. After three years at that school, Jason accepted a
promotion within his company, and moved to Orlando. I did not want to go. I had
made so many friends in Mobile at my new church and school. Fortunately, our
home sold just before the housing crisis of 2008, and I moved to be with Jason
in Orlando at the end of the school year in 2009. In ample time, I requested that
my teaching certificate be transferred to Florida. As I began my job search, I
discovered that my certificate had not been transferred, and it was too late
for me to have that done and teach that Fall. I was devastated. We weren’t
going to starve, but I wanted to be in the classroom.
Jason moved to Orlando over a
year before I did. During the time he was there, a lot of turnover among the
directors of his company occurred and he was no longer happy. We decided to
move back to Alabama, but this time, back to my hometown. We told my parents
and a few friends who could network and help us find jobs. It turns out that my
certificate not being transferred was a blessing. Within weeks, I was hired at
a middle school. Jason was not far behind. We remodeled my grandmother’s house,
where we still live.
I saw God’s plan at this time.
Since Mobile is less than two hours from Fulton, my hometown, we would never
have moved there (to Fulton). It took us being 500 miles away to move to
Fulton. That answered my question of why God ever allowed us to move to
Orlando. Things were great for years, then Jason’s company was selling out. He
didn’t lose his job, but managers on his level were encouraged to find jobs
just in case. The only comparable job he could find was six hours away in
Bossier City, Louisiana. He moved there and bought a house as an investment.
During the time Jason was in
Louisiana, I spent even more time with my family, but especially my brother. He
would meet my dad and me for breakfast at the local café, spend the weekends at
my parents’ house, cut my grass while I was at work, and visit me in the
evenings, sometimes spending the night. During these times when it was just the
two of us, we reminisced, had hours of heart to heart talks, and solved the
world’s problems. He would message me early in the mornings and wish me a good
day at school. We would see funny stuff on social media and “screen shot it” to
each other. My brother’s choosing to spend time with me made me feel important
and special. He was a cool guy, had lots of great friends, but he was choosing
to spend time with me. That still makes me smile. I always worried about him,
though, and my biggest fear was that he would die in an accident. And he did.
I saw God’s plan in action at
this time, too. Although I didn’t want to be apart from Jason, I know that God
gave that one-on-one time to Jared and me. If Jason had been in Fulton, Jared
and I would not have had that last year together.
On Monday, October 20, 2014, I went to school, to an animal shelter task force meeting, then home to bed. About 10:00, I think, my mom woke me up beating on my door. She was screaming “Jared has been in a wreck and it’s bad!” Her best friend drove us to the hospital. I prayed the whole time. I didn’t know where the wreck was until we approached it. There were more emergency response vehicles than I have ever seen. His truck was upside down. I remember feeling sick. My dad called to see where we were. He sounded okay. When we stepped out of the vehicle, a lot of people I knew were there, including his wife and her parents. My dad looked calm, but he said “he’s gone, y’all.” My mom screamed, and I remember feeling sick and faint. I saw a truck with the tailgate down and tried to walk to it, but it seemed a mile away. An EMT and fireman caught me, and I knew the fireman. I remember asking him if Jared suffered and if anyone else was hurt. He told me that Jared didn’t die instantly, but he didn’t think he felt anything, and that it was a single car accident. He said he thought Jared knew who he was. He also said there were two ladies there singing hymns and praying when the first responders arrived. That was instant comfort. Jared is a Christian, and we know all the hymns. I was also glad he wasn’t alone. I later discovered that one of the ladies is the mother of one of my very special students. I now refer to Mrs. Pam and her friend as my “Angel Ladies.”As soon as I was able to function, I immediately realized that Jared is with Jesus. I told my dad, and he said “I know.” The next thing I realized is that life is too short to worry about the stupid, petty things I worry about. That was a game changer for me. I really don’t know what I would do if Jared were lost. I know that I will see him again.
Quite a few of our friends came
to the hospital. I chose not to see him. They said he had a “trach.” I knew
that would be traumatic for me. Jason had his phone off, so my friend called
the Bossier police to go to his house. He called her, and she told him. He
drove all night to come home.
It’s neat how God gives you
strength. My mom is awesome, but she is not going to win any housekeeping
awards. Gardening, cooking, sewing awards, quite possibly, but not
housekeeping. I knew we would have a house full the next day, so I went to her
house to tidy up a bit. Then I went home. Jason wasn’t there, of course, but my
dachshunds, Jack, Bee, and Pearl were. I hugged and hugged them. I finally went
to sleep. My phone rang. It was my hair dresser and friend. That was the
beginning of a week of being cared for, nearly round the clock, by friends and
family. It did not seem real. It seemed like we were having a gathering and
waiting on him to get there. My mom’s best friend told me that I was not a
hostess, that I needed to let them take care of us. Jason and I went and got
the things out of his truck. I still have them in my car.
I’ve heard the first 6 months are
the absolute worst, then then first year. I found that to be true. Christmas
was especially hard, and not having a gift for him under the tree. Jason had a
good idea. He suggested buying gifts for others in Jared’s memory. I have done
that ever since for his birthday, Christmas, and death anniversary. It is very
rewarding to me, it keeps his memory alive, and I hope it blesses the
recipients. It also gives me something good to look forward to rather than
being sad.
Jared had so many wonderful
friends. Two of them in particular have stepped up to become treasured friends
of mine. He would be so proud of them for that. I think he knew that he would
die young. The morning after, a close friend of his called me and said that
Jared told him to call me and tell me “this” if anything ever happened to him.
It was some stuff that he wanted me to take care of. That was prophetic. It
also made me feel important again.
Next week will be the sixth
anniversary of his death. I still have grief waves. Sometimes I can talk about
him, look at pictures, and listen to songs, and other times something very
small can upset me for days. I guard myself, too. I know better than to watch
home videos and hear his voice. That would do me in. It makes me feel guilty
that I block triggers, but I know he would not want me to be sad. I can’t say
enough about the other grievers who have been there for me. I also feel driven
to be there for new grievers, particularly what I call “angel sisters.” I can’t
bring him back, but I can try to make good come from this tragedy. I can keep
his memory alive. I do my best to do both.
If you are a griever, grieve your
own way. Aside from addiction and hurting yourself, do what you have to in order
to survive. You will never “get over it.” Anyone who says so is foolish and has
never experienced grief. There are no rights and wrongs. Don’t expect to be the
same (as you were before). Your life has changed and will never be the same. It
is now “before and after” your loss. Find comfort in trying to make good come
from it. Remember that life is short and precious. Petty stuff doesn’t matter
(I have to be reminded of this). Don’t go to bed mad. Make sure your family and
friends know you love them. Make sure you know where you and your family and
friends are going to spend eternity. I fall short every day. I get mad at
people daily and sin, but I still love God and ask Him for forgiveness often.
I know many people have suffered
much worse than we have. We know where Jared’s body and soul are. He is not missing
or in Hell. He was not murdered, so we don’t have to be angry at a perpetrator.
We were all on good terms. I am forever grateful to have no regrets. I am most
grateful to have had the best brother and friend that God could have ever given
me.
“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye to hard.” -Winnie the Pooh
