Seven Years Ago Today. . .

The phone, the doorbell, the knocking--no rather the pounding on the door.

Blindly I navigate to the phone. The noise--it's so irritating, all I want to do is close my eyes and sleep.

Once I find the talk button on the phone, I say, "hello" the last words I ever speak in my normal world.

"Janet, this is Joan, come and answer the door." My head clearing, it's dark outside; Joe's not home. I freeze on the third stair from the bottom, the phone and my hands drop to my side, and in my head I hear, "you are a widow".

SUDDENLY, adrenaline shots through me. I AM awake.  Many thoughts crowd my head.

• my poor children
• my grand babies
• how will I pay the bills
• I can't have a funeral--the house is in the destruction part of remodel
• a funeral
• unpacking
• where will I bury him

The knocking/pounding and door bell jolt me into the present.

In his highway patrol voice I hear Dave demand, "Open the door".

I weakly reply "No, I know what you are going to tell me".  I shrink.  If they can't find me they can't tell me.  If they can't tell me it's not real.

Dave says, "Answer the door ---everything will be okay".

The door opens, my world comes to an end, and in comes, my bishop, and my neighbors--Utah highway patrolman, Dave and his wife Joan. I walk over to Joan and lay my head on her shoulder. No one should have to look you in the eyes to deliver this news.  I feel very, very bad for them.  What a terrible thing to have to do. 

Be brave I tell my old self as I meet my new self.

I don't hear the words. I can't think. I want to run away, but my legs don't work. My voice asks if Joe had fallen asleep.

No.  The other driver was drunk.

Was it a young kid?

No.

Good.

Then, I remind them Joe is not really too late and he'll be home soon.  He'll take care of this mess.

It's about 5 am and I know I need to call Farrah before she goes to work. I tell the bishop I don't know how to reach Anthony.  He says he'll take care of that, then I wonder if it is any easier to reach an LDS missionary in Honduras for his father's death, because Mother's Day and Christmas it is nearly impossible to make contact.

I am down in my room and I find Farrah's name and hit send. A sleepy Farrah answers. When I tell her about the accident she screams the most gut retching sob imaginable.

Athena does not answer. Adam does not answer.

I have to call Farrah back and ask her to go to Athena's and tell them to answer the phone.

I tell Athena. They will get ready and come down. I tell them to be careful.

I call Lott's house. His mother answers the phone.

I tell her.

She sobs.

Next I call my dad. He asks if I need anything I tell him to go be with my girls.

I call my sister, her daughter Carlee answers, but goes back to sleep. I call her again and tell her it's important and to take the phone to her mom. I and tell her.

My last call is to Patty.  Suddenly, I don't believe what they have told me.

My world turns into a blur.  The color of my life fades.

Neighbors unwrap the couch, move the construction equipment, and set up the bunk beds for my children to sleep in.

I don't know where anything is.  I didn't know where anything was before, all of our possessions were still in boxes.

I just kept thinking, it will be okay when the girls get here.

I didn't worry about Anthony, I gently put him in Heavenly Father's hands.

So much was going on.  Then, while I stood in the guest bedroom, I took the phone in my hands and heard my sons voice, "Mom do you want me to come home?"  He had three months left, and they would let him come home and then return to the mission field if he wanted.  Finally he cried a whisper,  "I don't know what to do."

Seven years later, neither do I.

I keep looking back remembering, while the rest of the world lives and moves forward.

I miss him, and the grief and pain never end.

When I dream, he lives and all is well.  Then I awake,

and I don't know how to live without him.