We experienced one of the scariest nights of our life that night. Our neighborhood had repeated hits from guys getting into cars and taking things. They were walking up to cars and checking door handles. My husband was hit twice. He has a really bad habit of not locking his truck. These guys took two handguns that were left in his truck. Police couldn’t do much with security camera footage. The idea that someone was in our vehicles in our driveway gave us such a sense of insecurity.
After sharing on our neighborhood page what happened, a friend suggested we borrow his sensors. The sensor would be placed in the truck, and if motion was detected we would get an alert on a monitor inside. The guys breaking in the truck would not hear it and this could give us a chance to call the police so they could catch him. Sounded like a great plan.
After several weeks of nothing, checking security camera footage daily, wondering if the sensor wasn’t working, someone came back. We were asleep and woke up to the strangest sound, not realizing what it was for at first. Suddenly my husband jumped out of bed and shouted “Call the police! That’s the sensor! Someone must be in my truck!” He quickly got dressed as I grabbed my phone and ran to the window to see if I could get a view of the truck. I could see someone inside! But what was wrong with my phone?
I kept trying and trying to call 911, but my phone wasn’t working! I couldn’t hear anything! My husband decided that this guy was not getting away, and grabbed his gun and headed to the front door. I was terrified! I heard my husband shouting ‘get on the ground’ repeatedly. I still could not get my phone to work! I looked at my phone and realized that it was still connected to my airpods! Are you kidding me right now? I disconnected them and tried calling again and this time I was able to get through.
By this time my neighbor was outside and had already called the police, but I remained on the phone with the dispatcher. I explained what was happening, that my husband had this guy laying on the ground at gunpoint. She said that when the patrol car approached my husband would need to put his gun down, hands in the air, and let the officers know where he placed his gun.
The officers arrived and my husband did as the dispatcher directed. They handcuffed the guy and I was able to see his face. A kid. Later we learned his age. A 17 year old kid. My heart hurt for him. What was going on in this kid's life that caused him to think this was his best option? How was I able to feel sorry for someone that had caused so much stress and worry in our lives over the past several months?
After the police were gone with the kid, we went inside and talked a while. Thankfully our son slept through the entire ordeal. My husband broke down. Watching him outside, holding the guy at gunpoint, remembering his strong voice as he yelled get on the ground, all I saw was a strong man. But now, seeing him break down, I started to realize how scary that must have been for him. He doesn’t have the proper training to handle what he just experienced. He said there was a split second when he almost pulled the trigger. When he first told the guy to stop and get on the ground, the guy reached down to his pants, my husband not knowing if he was reaching for a gun, possibly one that was stolen from us, but realized he was just pulling up his pants before putting both hands into the air. My husband said he then realized he was a kid, and his heart hurt for him.
After an hour of talking and letting our minds finally settle down, we got back into bed. I must have just fallen asleep when my phone started ringing. I remember feeling very tired after what we went through that night. I noticed it was my mom and wondered why she was calling me now? Had I texted her about what was happening? I answered the phone half asleep and heard my mother’s devastated voice, “Henry was in an accident.” “Is he ok?” “He didn’t make it.”
I don’t think I had ever been in a state of shock before then. I remember sitting up and repeating over and over “this isn’t real.” There was no way this could be real. My big bubba? Gone? This was a bad dream. I felt my husband take my phone and wrap his arms around me. I heard my dad’s voice over the phone talking to my husband. There was a car accident and Henry was taken to the hospital but didn’t survive.
My husband hung up the phone with my dad and held me while we both cried. He loved my brother very much and was close with him. We lost his big sister to breast cancer months after we were married. Now here we were, another sibling gone. “We have to go,” my husband said. I remember trying to pack quickly, not really seeing or caring what I was grabbing. I was able to move our son to the truck without him waking up, and we headed to my hometown.
As my husband drove that night I remember staring out the window as I cried. The tears never really stopped. Memories of our childhood flooded my mind. All the family trips, dinners, life experiences. That’s all I had now. We wouldn’t be able to make any new memories. The talks about future plans, watching our children grow up together, making fun of each other getting old. It all stopped.
Then my mind went straight to my brother’s little family. His wife and two boys, one and five years old. He wouldn’t get to watch them grow up. They wouldn’t have him as they grew. The five year old might remember him, but the baby? He won’t remember how much his daddy loved him. How he held him in the recliner all night when he was congested so he could stay elevated and breathe better. They wouldn’t have him as their role model, and what a great role model he would have been. Such a sweet, spirited, people loving, and forgiving man. He loved his boys so much.
What about his wife? She lost a great man. How was she going to go through her day to day life without him? How was she going to tell her boys that their daddy wasn’t coming home? My heart was breaking for them. Next I thought about our younger brother. He always looked up to our big bubba. How was he going to handle losing his childhood roommate? They guy he always wanted to be like growing up? Then my parents! As a mother I could not fathom the idea of losing my sweet boy. Thinking about them and how they must feel. Truly a parent’s worst nightmare.
As we passed my hometown city limit sign, I could feel my heart rate increasing. We were getting close to the hospital where my family was waiting for me so that I could see my brother before the organ donor team took him. Driving into the parking lot I felt frozen in my seat. How was I going to get out and walk into that hospital where my family waited most likely hugging each other and crying over my brother.
My little brother came out and we kinda ran to each other. We hugged tighter than we ever had. It was just us now. Just me and my little brother. We looked at each other and turned towards the hospital. I was going to see my big bubba. As I entered the emergency room entrance, my parents took turns hugging me. My brother’s wife was there too. Everyone had tears streaming down their cheeks. We were only allowed four in at a time to see him so my dad offered to stay with our son while we went in to see him with my mom and sister in law. They had all seen him, so they let my husband and I know what to expect.
Walking into the room I see my big bubba laying on a metal table with a sheet over him up to his chest. Part of me expected him to sit up and tell me it was all a joke, that he was alive. As I walked up to the table I looked down at him; he looked so peaceful. His arms were resting at his sides. My brother was the III of his name in our family, so my father was always called ‘big’ and my brother ‘little’ because of it. My brother stopped being ‘little’ in comparison to my father when he was 16 years old. My brother was 6 foot 5 and around 300 pounds. Nothing little about him. However, seeing him lying there, he didn’t look so big. My sister in law stroked his beard, and my mother ran her hand over his hair. They were in so much pain. I was in so much pain. How could this happen to our family? Why did He do this? Why would He take such a loved person from their friends and family?
Walking out of the hospital, questions begin forming in my mind. What happened? Where did the accident take place? Who was involved? Who was at fault? My brother had been with friends at a house on the outside of town. Small country towns have tons of backroads. He and a couple of friends had been drinking and when they left decided to ‘race’ a bit. We don’t exactly know how, but my brother swerved back and forth, based on the tire tracks, and ran off the road. His truck flipped several times and he, not wearing a seatbelt, was ejected from the truck and thrown pretty far from the truck. Based on the evidence, they believe he was driving pretty fast. His friend in the truck with him, wearing his seat belt, remained in the truck and suffered broken ribs among other things, but he survived.
Learning what happened and how I started to feel anger towards my brother. How could he have been so stupid? He had a wife and children, a family that loves and needs him here. He had driven those roads so many times, why would he drive so recklessly? It really didn’t sound like something he would have done, which raised more questions. What really happened? This led to theories, but nothing that would change the fact that my brother was gone.
That day was the longest day of my life. From the time I got the call, to the time I laid down that night, my world changed and I experienced more emotions than I ever had. I can’t remember when or which day following the accident, but we visited the crash site, saw his truck at the tow lot, helped make funeral arrangements, viewed his body before the services, and held funeral services.
Visiting the crash site was quite the experience. Knowing this is the place where his life ended, where he took his last breaths. I wondered if he was in pain. I wondered what thoughts went through his head. Did he call out for anyone? He was all alone, laying in the dark as life left his body. I couldn’t deal with these thoughts. It hurt so much not knowing what he went through.
My sister in law said that his wedding ring and favorite necklace were missing. The EMTs did not see them so she assumed they were lost during the crash. A friend of his used a metal detector and was able to find his wedding ring. We searched the field where his body was found, and there it was! My husband spotted it, the charm still attached. We all felt pretty emotional seeing it there. Making it feel more real that this is where he was found.
When we left the crash site, we stopped at the tow yard where his truck was taken. My sister in law wanted to check the truck for anything else that was valuable. Seeing his truck was scary. I originally was so sure that if my brother had been wearing a seatbelt, he would not have been ejected and would have survived like his friend. I did not feel that way now. The driver side was completely crushed in. His 6’4” frame would not have been ok in that space. His son’s car seat was still in the back seat. Seeing this my sister in law broke down and expressed so much anger. We were all confused until she explained, my nephew wanted to go with my brother that night, but they decided he should stay home. I guess the idea of her son being in that accident set off different emotions. It made me think that maybe this would not have happened because my brother would have been more cautious with his son’s presence.
Leaving the tow lot, we went to my parent’s house. The house that I grew up in with my brothers. It didn’t feel like home anymore. It felt different. We were met by family from out of town and friends that had gotten news. Everyone was so sad, lots of hugs and tears. Memories of my brother shared by everyone. How great of a person he was. How much he loved people and how people loved him. So many people brought food for us. I realized we hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink since dinner the night before. Food was the furthest thing from my mind.
That evening I bathed our son, took my shower and laid down. I was so drained. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I remember waking up the next morning. Had I dreamed the whole thing? Surely my brother was still alive. Opening my eyes, I looked around the room that used to be my brothers. My parents converted his room to a guest room years ago since he was the first to leave the nest. I could still picture it exactly as it was when he lived there. He was a lot like me, very organized and kept his room clean. Now it was pretty bare. A bed, dresser and a television.
My husband and son were still asleep, so I got out of bed to see if anyone else in the house was awake. Both of my parents were up. My sister in law scheduled to meet at the funeral home to make arrangements. We decided to meet her there. She was such a nervous wreck. My brother did not have a will, but we all knew and agreed that he wanted to be cremated. This helped reduce some of the arrangement decisions. This was a difficult time for my sister in law and parents. My little brother and I were there for support, but didn’t feel at liberty to give input for decisions. His wife and parents should make the decisions. They decided we would have a service to celebrate his life, friends and family were all welcome to join, then he would be cremated.
The day before the funeral service, our family was allowed to view my brother’s body. We walked into the room, holding on to my husband’s hand, and there he was. My big bubba, laying in a casket. Everyone cried. He looked good. He looked at peace. He was wearing one of his favorite t-shirts. He would not have wanted to be dressed fancy. He was such a handsome man. His boys got his good looks. His boys! They still did not know what happened to their daddy. My sister in law chose to have them stay with her sister until she felt she was ready and knew the best way to tell them. She wanted us all there.
Getting to my brother’s house, I felt a knot rising in my throat. I had to keep it together for my sister in law and nephews. These little boys were about to have their whole lives altered. They were so innocent and little, one and five years old. They did not deserve to experience such a great loss so young. Would they even understand? We all sat down in the living room with the boys. My sister in law held their oldest in her lap as she began to talk to him, “Your daddy was in an accident and he won’t be coming home.” My nephew thought about this for a minute and I could see the change in his expression as he understood what his mom had just told him. He started crying and asked “What happened?” He understood. My heart broke all over again.
The morning of my brother’s funeral, my family gathered in my parent’s living room before leaving. A cousin offered to keep all of the children. My parents got into the truck with us, my younger brother followed behind in his truck with his wife. I remember looking at my parents and wondering what they were thinking. What were they feeling knowing they were on their way to celebrate their first son’s life that was so short lived? All of the memories they had of him from birth to watching him become a father. The heartache they must be feeling.
Walking into the funeral home, knowing I was about to see my big bubba for the last time, I felt an odd surge of adrenaline. Anxiety maybe? We stood next to him, laying in his casket, as family and friends lined up out the door to pay their respects, say their goodbyes, and express their condolences to us. I experienced a roller coaster of emotions witnessing others grieve for him. He was so loved by so many people. The funeral home had to open another room conjoined to allow space for everyone in attendance to fit. It was such a beautiful thing to see the numbers of people that showed up for him.
Some extended family and friends put together a huge spread for everyone in attendance to fellowship after the funeral service. Here we were able to talk with everyone. I loved hearing stories of my brother and the impact he had on other people. Tears, hugs and laughs filled the space. My bubba would have loved this celebration of his life. He loved seeing people gather together. He was going to be missed by so many and definitely left a hole in all our lives.
The weeks that followed were hard. Trying to go back to normal day to day life, knowing my brother was gone felt odd. I thought about his wife and children every day. The thought of my parents going back to work. How do we handle moving forward? I called my mom daily on my ride home from work. She cried a lot. I checked in with my brother’s wife often, the boys missed their dad and asked for him every day. My younger brother and I talked more than I think we had since we lived with our parents as kids. We all needed each other, and we all were dealing with our pain in different ways. I felt the need to be the strong supportive one. I think this caused me to suppress a lot of my emotions during that time.
It was several months after losing him that I think I finally really dealt with my emotions. I remember kinda just breaking down one afternoon, and sat on my back patio while I let out all the tears and sadness. It felt good. I didn’t have to be strong in that moment. That night I saw my brother in a dream. I was sitting in a football stadium with a group of his friends. Everyone was talking about him, sharing laughs over memories of him. I looked up in the bleachers and there he was. Looking back at me with the biggest smile on his face. He didn’t speak to me, but I knew that he was ok and he was proud of me for remembering him with happiness in my heart.
It’s now been 9 years since we lost my brother. I think about him all the time. I have not had any other dreams of him, but every now and then I see signs that make me think of him. Sometimes it’s a red bird when I’m least expecting, and other times something happens that makes me laugh and I can’t help but think he had a part in the moment and wanted me to feel joy. There was a time that my daughter was being really silly after a bath and I was tired and trying to get her dressed for bed. She kept rolling around and dancing on my bed. I felt myself getting frustrated and almost fussed at her when something came over me and I felt his words, ‘let her be little’. I almost cried. He wanted me to choose joy and allow my little girl to be happy. I am so thankful for the impact losing him has had on me. I am pushed out of my comfort zone to meet people and make friends, seeing a mess the kids made is them having fun, and knowing that there is always joy in a situation; sometimes you just have to let go.
