*Note this is a paper I had to write for one of my college classes a few yrs. ago*
THUD! “Honey are you okay?” ”Honey?!?” “Steve you fell down
the stairs again!” I can still hear the panic in my mother’s voice as this one
scene in particular plays in my mind. I remember rushing to the bottom of the
stairs to see my father all sprawled out. He had been walking up the stairs in
our home to the second floor and forgot which direction he was walking and in
turn fell down them. This wasn’t the first time this had happened though and it
wasn’t going to be the last time either.
I can
remember it almost as if it were yesterday. I was in the Second Grade. It was the
end of the school day and I was on my way home. The school bus had pulled up
right next to the curb that was at the end of my front yard. While getting off
the bus I noticed something that was foreign to me (well at least during the
day time anyways) – it was my Father’s car just sitting there in our driveway.
You see my father had the type of job where he worked late nights and early
mornings. We (my siblings and I) rarely saw him long enough to say “I love you Daddy! “. So you can
understand the excitement that instantly hit me and sent me into a full blown sprint
across my front yard and to my front door. I reached my front door in what
seemed to be milliseconds and ran inside. Perhaps I was running too fast to
notice that something was wrong with his car or I was too excited to think of
the possibility of something being wrong, but when I ran in asking my mother
why my father was home so early I quickly found out what I had not taken time
to consider.
Everything
seems to be kind of fuzzy after that point- I can’t remember the how the words
came out of her mouth nor can I remember how I reacted to them. But what I do
remember is she told me my father had been in a horrible wreck earlier that
morning. Part of me wishes I could remember what happened in that moment; what
I did; how I reacted. I was always the child who wanted to know all the details
about anything and everything. But for some reason I cannot remember anything
from that moment. I do however remember how my life was forever changed from
that point on.
It was either rainy or foggy that
early morn and he was on his way to work. Everything seemed to be going pretty
normal until a semi truck decided to make a turn. He didn’t notice my father
and the backside of his trailer caught my father’s car. It was from there on that everything spun out
of control. My father lost all control of his car and try as he might was not
able to regain it. There was even one point where he says his car was so close
to the truck that he could’ve reached out and touched the taillights of the
trailer with his hand.
He
often recalls when he finally realized (and in fact thought) he may not make it
out alive. It was in that moment where he cried out “God, please take care of
Sheila and the kids.” At that point his car went up on two wheels and stayed
that way for a while. This whole time the semi truck driver was left to watch
in horror as this scene played out in front of his very eyes. The truck driver
later told my father that right when my father’s car went up on two wheels it
had given him just enough room to get past my father and to a place where he
could safely stop. The car then went back down on all four wheels and was sent
spinning a few more times before it finally stopped. The truck driver ran to my
father’s car as soon as he was able to. He quickly began to apologize to my
father and told him it was his (the truck driver’s) fault and that he didn’t
even see him until it was too late. He had my father sit in the cab of his
truck where it was safe until the police and EMT’s arrived on the scene.
The
story didn’t end there though. That in fact was the beginning of a year and a
half long journey my entire family went through.
As a
result of the wreck my father was stricken with horrible migraines. No one was
ever sure exactly what brought on the migraines (other than the wreck in and of
itself), but when I say he was stricken by migraines I mean he was practically
a bag of bones. He couldn’t move without being in pain. You couldn’t light a
dim candle in a dark room without it affecting his migraine (and no I’m not
exaggerating that actually happened a few times). If he decided to walk into
another room (for whatever reason) he would walk very slowly and almost in a
hobbling manner. There were many times he’d try to go up or down the stairs of
our house and forget which direction he was going and would end up falling down
the stairs. Of all the things to see try being 8, 6, and 4 yrs old and seeing
your father sprawled out across the stairs. I couldn’t do it at the age I am
now (which is 23), let alone when I was 8.
My
father pretty much stayed this way for a year and a half. The job he had kept
him on payroll for as long as they could but eventually had to let him go.
Because my father both lost his job and was unable to work my mother had no
choice but to find a job.
Suddenly
my entire world was turned upside down. I went from a pretty basic life where
everything (other than the fact that I rarely saw my father) seemed to be going
pretty decently. Suddenly my father was home all the time and in fact could not
leave the house. I didn’t see my mother nearly as much as I was used to because
she worked a lot. And on top of all that I had to grow up pretty quickly almost
instantly.
Every
morning my father would hobble into the bedroom my siblings and I shared to try
and wake my brother and me up for school. We would both get up and get dressed.
Sometimes I had to pick our outfits out if my mother had forgotten to do that
the day before. I would make sure we both had breakfast and that we made it out
in time to our bus stop. But that wasn’t all my morning routine consisted of.
My sister was also in school at the time. But she was Kindergartner and she
only went half a day in the afternoons. So I would have to try and pick
something out for her to wear and try to have something either ready or laid
out for her to eat.
When I
got back from school I would have to work on my homework and try to make sure
my siblings did theirs as well. I would also make us dinner. These dinners
normally consisted of frozen meals or things in the fridge but it was dinner
none the less.
Unlike
my father when he worked full-time we were able to see my mother a bit more in
the evenings. She would make sure we got our baths and she would put us to bed.
I remember not sleeping a lot during this time. I tossed and turned more than I
ever have. I remember running downstairs to sit with my parents in the living
room because I just couldn’t sleep. Sometimes my mom would send me back to bed
and others she would let me sit there either on the floor or in her lap. I
remember one specific time she wrapped me in her arms and held me tight until I
fell asleep. I almost think she started to cry in this moment but I don’t
remember a single tear passing through her eyes.
My
family tried to keep things as normal as possible for us kids, but it just
wasn’t the same. We went to school every day and went to church every Sunday and
Wednesday. We often had to get rides to church from different families and
sometimes we didn’t even go to the same church (depending on who picked us up.
Whether it be a friend of the family or an extended family member).
I
remember the first Easter I had without either of my parents there; it was also
the first Easter none of us got a new Easter outfit. I heard my alarm go off
that morning and I woke up and then woke both of my siblings up as well. We got dressed in the outfits my mother had
laid out for us the night before. A family from one of the local churches came
and picked us up. I don’t remember a thing about that service. I just remember
wanting to cry because neither of my parents were there with us. Sometimes it
seemed church was the hardest place to go without them there. I also remember
the navy blue belted dress with pink flowers my mother picked out for me to
wear. I remember thinking it didn’t resemble anywhere near an Easter dress but
I wore it just the same because she picked it out.
Our
life was pretty complicated during this time. I remember the emptiness that
seemed to fill the house at times and the sadness that would overwhelm you.
This was the first time I remember not letting my emotions show though. I
remember trying to keep it together to the best of my ability. If something
happened or we had cancel plans due to my father’s headaches and my mother’s
work schedule I would hold the hurt in and try to calm my siblings down.
I can
recall a time when we were on our way to my aunt’s house (which was only 20
minutes away) and my father decided he was going to try and drive. We weren’t
even 5 minutes down the road and we had to turn around and go back home because
he couldn’t handle it. I remember my sister getting upset and starting to cry
because she really wanted to go see my aunt. I remember putting my hand on her
knee and asking her to please not say anything because daddy really felt bad.
This actually happened a few times
One of
the most important events happened to me during this point in my life. I was at
a children’s revival at Bro. Rod Pamer’s church and Bro. Squirer’s (The King’s
Clown) was there. My aunt had picked up my mother, my siblings and I and took
us to the service that evening. I remember laughing my head off and having a
good time. At the end of the service they had an altar call and I went down. It
was in that service that I received the Holy Ghost. I had been seeking for it
since I was 4 and finally got it at age 8. You often hear people say God gives things to
us right when we need them and not just when we want them. I don’t think the
Holy Ghost is an exception from that. There wasn’t a better time that I
could’ve received the Holy Ghost.
After
the service we went to McDonald’s to get milkshakes (which is kind of a family
tradition in our family – after you receive the Holy Ghost we go out for
milkshakes just kind of as a congratulations) . I couldn’t wait to get home and
tell my father all about it. When we got home we walked in through the front
door and into the dark living room where my father was sitting in his recliner
– though this seems kind of scary it was something we had all grown to be used
to. I ran up to my father trying to be as calm as I could be so that I wouldn’t
get excited and talk too loud. I told
him about how I had received the Holy Ghost that night. “That’s good baby.” my
father said in a voice and manner that never seems to leave my mind. I can
still see the hurt and anguish in my father’s face. I heard the words he
couldn’t think to say due to the fact that he was in too much pain. I wanted
him to wrap me in his arms. I wanted him to show me how excited he was and how
proud he was of me. I wanted him to at least crack a smile for me, but alas he
could not. I knew I would have to settle for the three words that came out of
his mouth. I knew inside though that his words meant so much more than what he
actually said.
There
are only two times I ever remember crying during this whole ordeal. The one
time was when our family had rented a movie (Hunchback of Notre Dame) and we
were about halfway through when my mother received a phone call. It was her
job. They needed her to come in to work. I remember being the only to walk out
of the room to see what was going on. When she told me what was going on I
broke down crying. I begged her to stay and watch a movie with us. I wanted to
see my mother. I wanted to share this moment with her- it wasn’t so much the
movie nor the snacks we were eating but for a millisecond I felt like I had my
family back again and I wasn’t ready to let go of that feeling. She broke down
crying too and promised me we would finish the movie together some other time
and went to work. I hated her job from that point on. As an adult I understand
you have to do what you have to do to take care of your family, I understood
that as a child too but I couldn’t hold it together any longer. I couldn’t wait
for the day that I would have MY family back again.
The
only other time I remember crying was right towards the end of everything. My
father had finally gotten fed up with everything and something built up inside
of him. He recalls how he stood up,
lifted his hand and pointed his finger at where he imagined the devil
was standing. “You only have two weeks Devil. Two weeks to do your worst. And
after those two weeks God is going to heal me” are the words my father said (my
mother jokingly recalls how she asked him why he couldn’t say two days instead
of two weeks).
During
those two weeks those were the worst two weeks he ever hard during that entire
time . His headaches were almost unbearable. One night while I was finishing
cleaning up the kitchen my father came hobbling in and asked me to call my
mother. He said the headache he had was the worst one he had yet and that I
should ask my mother to come home to be with us kids. I remember looking at him
and wondering if he really was having the worst migraine ever or if he was just
wearing down. He didn’t look any different to me. He had the same hobble in his
step, the same look in his eyes, and the same expression on his face. I’m not
sure if he was really trying to hide how much pain he was in or if he was in
too much pain to even realize how he looked. I did as he said though and called
my mother’s job. A lady answered the phone and I asked if Sheila (my mother)
was there. I remember it feeling weird to call my mother by her first name.
My
mother came to the phone and I told her what my father had told me to say. She
told me she was going to talk to her boss and told me to hold on. When she came
back to the phone she told me her boss wasn’t going to let her come home. I
broke down crying on the phone. She asked me what was wrong and all I could say
was in between sobs was “I’m just tired of it all.” She told me not to worry
about it that she was on her way home right then. She marched into her bosses
office and told them either they had to let her go home or she was quitting .
Needless to say they let her come home.
Even in
the midst of all the pain there were a few funny moments though. Like the time
where my father accidently bit into one of his medicines and half his tongue
went numb. It was one of those late nights I couldn’t sleep and I was sitting
in the living room with my mother. My father came hobbling in from the other
room where he had taken his medicine and then began to tell my mother and I
“Guythes my tongue is numb (with the “b” overly pronounced)”. All of us even my
father couldn’t help but laugh at that moment.
There
was also the time my father was taking a certain type of medicine where he
couldn’t have caffeine nor chocolate. But being the stubborn man he is bought
Nutty Bars (his favorite snack…in fact he swears they’re manna ). As soon as I
found this out I took off with the un-open box and hid them. He kept trying to
get me to give them to him and I refused. I wasn’t going to let my daddy get
hurt anymore. Well he eventually went to my brother and sister who quickly gave
in and found the Nutty Bars and gave them to my father. I was so mad. I quickly
ran and snatched them from their hands (though whether it was one of my
siblings or father’s hands I cannot recall). This time I hid them again and in
an even better spot where no one would be able to find them. Finally my father was
able to have caffeine and chocolate again and asked me if he could have his
Nutty Bars. I refused to give them to him because I didn’t believe him and I
was scared. It took my mother bending down to my level and looking me in the
eyes to tell me “Honey, it’s okay. Daddy can have chocolate now.” I still asked
her “Are you sure?” three or more times before I finally gave in. I never told
anyone where I hid them the second time just in case I had to hide them again.
In fact I still to this day haven’t told anyone. Now this story just humors me.
I am
who I am today because of all of this. If I could go back in time and change
everything that happened, would I ? No, I do not that think I would or even
could for that matter. I truly believe God had a reason and purpose for all of
this. Though I’m still not fully sure why, yet. And maybe I will never know.
That’s okay though, because the Lord does and that’s all the reassurance that I
need.
I would
never wish what happened to my family and I upon anyone. This was probably the
hardest time in my childhood if not my life. I did , however, learn a lot of
lessons from this event. I learned how to be strong. I learned how awesome and
mighty my God is. The entire time this was happening I never once doubted God.
I don’t even remember blaming God for any of it. I just remember asking God to
take care of my family (oh to have childlike faith like that again.). I also
learned to not let my emotions get the better of me. Sadly with that though I
also learned that I don’t like to deal with my own problems and would much
rather take care of others. Which is probably why I can only remember crying
twice (not saying I didn’t cry more than that but those are the only times I
remember crying). If nothing else I know God is in control of all things;
families should NEVER be taken for granted; and you learn how strong you are in
weakest moments and your greatest trials.
