Everything comes from the seeds, and seeds die by being born. Truly, then, every part of our lives - even the good things - must one day cause us pain. this is the second higher truth: the truth of pain. (The Essential Yoga Sutra II.15)
On March 21, 2003, four days after Patrick and Olivia's deaths I received this letter in my mailbox:
Dear Katie,
I wanted to share something with you. I saw you and Olivia shopping together in Trader Joe's on the Saturday before your unimaginable loss. I passed the two of you several times during our shopping and happened to be in line next to each other at check out.
Each time I saw both of you , you were having wonderful interactions. Both of you had beautiful smiles. Olivia was sitting in the cart and she would look up at you with this beaming, angel face; you would look back at her with a matching look. I am sure other people noticed how happy the two of you were also. I though to myself about how lucky this little girl was to obviously be loved unconditionally. She just radiated all those many hours of love and good care. I wished every child could have that kind of experience.
I went home, gave each of my children big hugs and told them about seeing the two of you. I told them how sweet it was to see this mom and daughter in such a mutual admiration moment. Your face and that of Olivia was frozen in my brain.
I was completely heart sick when I heard about your loss. I am so sorry you lost your husband, daughter and family pet. I have shed many, many tears for the mom and little girl I saw in the store. I will forever remember seeing the two of you interacting with each other, it has touched my life.
I have begun to look into the faces of my own three children and notice things I may of missed or taken for granted.
I can't imagine what I can say and know that I am a stranger. From one mother to another mother, I am so deeply sorry. My thoughts and prayers are with you. I could see in the face of your beautiful daughter, you are a wonderful mommy.
Warm Regards,
Janene
The seeds of all that was good in my life were beginning to cause me pain.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
The Darkness Before the Dawn
In my office, I have a picture of Patrick on our wedding day. It is of him sitting in my Uncle Browne's desk chair before the ceremony in his backyard. His eyes are full of warmth and love and he is beaming from ear-to-ear. I look at that picture each day, it gives me hope and strength.
There is always darkness before the dawn!
By 9:00am on March 17, 2003 my life had gone into complete chaos. I learned both my husband and daughter had not survived the car accident we were in at 7:30am, and to top it off, our dog, Runa, who was in the back end of our car was missing. This was too much for my brain to process.
The nurse kept asking me for my parents phone number or address. They had recently moved and I couldn't remember it for the life of me.
"Do you know anyone here in town we could call?" A nurse asked.
"Well, there are our good friends, Steve and Linda Shuman...but I can't remember their number." My brain couldn't even do simple recall.
Luckily, the school had all the important numbers of people to call in case of an emergency. Steve and Linda were contacted, my parents were notified and all were rushing to the hospital.
For me, the world was moving in slow motion. I was escorted from the emergency room to a chaplain room off the main entrance. I remember sitting on a couch looking out the window watching the fog lift and the sun begin to shine. I pulled out a little picture of Olivia I had in my wallet and held on tight. I kept telling myself, "this is not the time to think, don't focus."
Little did I know around me, the world, our world, was moving at a fast pace.
By 10:00am the McCurdy family knew of the loss of their brother and son. All six McCurdy siblings were pulling themselves together enough to make arrangements to get to Eugene. Patsy McCurdy, Patrick's mom, had the burden of calling all her children and telling the story over and over again.
By 11:00am Steve Shuman had located our dog, Runa. She had been crushed in the back end of the wagon and brought to the City of Eugene impound lot. Steve took it upon himself to free Runa from the lot, take her to our veternarian, where they lovingly cremated her and had her ashes saved from me in a crystal ball, which still sits on my bookshelf in my office.
I had Runa since she was a puppy and I was 21 years old. She had grown up will me. She had experienced college, falling in love with Patrick, and the birth of our first child. Runa loved Olivia, and even at her old age of 13, she would let Olivia play dress up with her. Often, I would find Runa in Olivia's room enduring yet one more outfit for the day. It varied day-to-day, depending on Olivia's mood. Runa would ascend from Olivia's room dragging a superhero cape, strangling herself as she stepped on it with her hind paws. Or my favorite was the paisley bonnet and sunglasses. Runa was a very special dog.
Runa had developed a severe case of separation anxiety when we moved from California to Oregon. She couldn't stand to be by herself and began to destroy our house. She dug holes under the fence, torn the siding off our house and broke door frames, just to get to us. So, to save Runa...and our house, Runa began to go with us, EVERYWHERE, including school.
By 12:00pm my parents, my brother and his girlfriend, Carla, and the McCurdy family had begun to arrive at the hospital.
I was told I could go home, I didn't have any injuries, other than a broken kneecap, that would warrant me staying over night. But the very kind staff offered to let me stay for emotional support.
"We can check on you throughout the night, you don't have to face people who may come over to your house, your mom can even stay with you," said the afternoon nurse.
I decided to stay. Interesting, my decision was not so much because I didn't want to face my neighbors, or those who may come by. I wanted to stay because I knew Patrick and Olivia were there and that was my last connection to them. Somewhere in my brain, I knew if I left the hospital that soul-to-soul connection that connects a family would be lost and I couldn't bare that.
The rest of the day truly was a blur. I was moved to a room on the third or fourth floor. My mom and I took a few walks around the floor to stretch my legs and keep all the aches and pains my muscles felt from being in a car accident at bay.
By 7:00 my very best friend, Jody had arrived at the hospital with her mom. At the sight of her, I lost it. I didn't cry, but internally I was beginning to shatter. My heart was finally beginning to come out of the fog and with each new person appearing, my heart broke a little bit more. I was beginning to register why they had come to see me.
I thought, if today is hard, what will tomorrow bring?
There is always darkness before the dawn!
By 9:00am on March 17, 2003 my life had gone into complete chaos. I learned both my husband and daughter had not survived the car accident we were in at 7:30am, and to top it off, our dog, Runa, who was in the back end of our car was missing. This was too much for my brain to process.
The nurse kept asking me for my parents phone number or address. They had recently moved and I couldn't remember it for the life of me.
"Do you know anyone here in town we could call?" A nurse asked.
"Well, there are our good friends, Steve and Linda Shuman...but I can't remember their number." My brain couldn't even do simple recall.
Luckily, the school had all the important numbers of people to call in case of an emergency. Steve and Linda were contacted, my parents were notified and all were rushing to the hospital.
For me, the world was moving in slow motion. I was escorted from the emergency room to a chaplain room off the main entrance. I remember sitting on a couch looking out the window watching the fog lift and the sun begin to shine. I pulled out a little picture of Olivia I had in my wallet and held on tight. I kept telling myself, "this is not the time to think, don't focus."
Little did I know around me, the world, our world, was moving at a fast pace.
By 10:00am the McCurdy family knew of the loss of their brother and son. All six McCurdy siblings were pulling themselves together enough to make arrangements to get to Eugene. Patsy McCurdy, Patrick's mom, had the burden of calling all her children and telling the story over and over again.
By 11:00am Steve Shuman had located our dog, Runa. She had been crushed in the back end of the wagon and brought to the City of Eugene impound lot. Steve took it upon himself to free Runa from the lot, take her to our veternarian, where they lovingly cremated her and had her ashes saved from me in a crystal ball, which still sits on my bookshelf in my office.
I had Runa since she was a puppy and I was 21 years old. She had grown up will me. She had experienced college, falling in love with Patrick, and the birth of our first child. Runa loved Olivia, and even at her old age of 13, she would let Olivia play dress up with her. Often, I would find Runa in Olivia's room enduring yet one more outfit for the day. It varied day-to-day, depending on Olivia's mood. Runa would ascend from Olivia's room dragging a superhero cape, strangling herself as she stepped on it with her hind paws. Or my favorite was the paisley bonnet and sunglasses. Runa was a very special dog.
Runa had developed a severe case of separation anxiety when we moved from California to Oregon. She couldn't stand to be by herself and began to destroy our house. She dug holes under the fence, torn the siding off our house and broke door frames, just to get to us. So, to save Runa...and our house, Runa began to go with us, EVERYWHERE, including school.
By 12:00pm my parents, my brother and his girlfriend, Carla, and the McCurdy family had begun to arrive at the hospital.
I was told I could go home, I didn't have any injuries, other than a broken kneecap, that would warrant me staying over night. But the very kind staff offered to let me stay for emotional support.
"We can check on you throughout the night, you don't have to face people who may come over to your house, your mom can even stay with you," said the afternoon nurse.
I decided to stay. Interesting, my decision was not so much because I didn't want to face my neighbors, or those who may come by. I wanted to stay because I knew Patrick and Olivia were there and that was my last connection to them. Somewhere in my brain, I knew if I left the hospital that soul-to-soul connection that connects a family would be lost and I couldn't bare that.
The rest of the day truly was a blur. I was moved to a room on the third or fourth floor. My mom and I took a few walks around the floor to stretch my legs and keep all the aches and pains my muscles felt from being in a car accident at bay.
By 7:00 my very best friend, Jody had arrived at the hospital with her mom. At the sight of her, I lost it. I didn't cry, but internally I was beginning to shatter. My heart was finally beginning to come out of the fog and with each new person appearing, my heart broke a little bit more. I was beginning to register why they had come to see me.
I thought, if today is hard, what will tomorrow bring?
Thursday, October 7, 2010
The day I will never forget
I think in all our lives, we have a "waking up" or a moment that all of a sudden we realize the important things in life. That moment came for me on March 17, 2003.
It started as a typical Monday. Patrick and I were rushing to get Olivia to our friend's house who provided daycare for us, so we could make to Pleasant Hill High School by the first period bell. (Patrick was a guidance counselor and I an English teacher at the school). Olivia sat in her car seat in the back seat praddling on about her next birthday, which wasn't until June! She was going to have everyone over for breakfast, her favorite meal of the day and we were going to have waffles and pancakes with strawberries and blueberries. That was the last thing I remember.
As we turned off of I-5 onto Highway 58 we were struck by an oncoming truck. The truck's back axle had come loss and the truck was swerving out of control. We just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Our blue Subaru Outback was totaled, with Patrick and Olivia pinned in the car. I on the other hand, was virtually unharmed. How does that happen?
I awoke in the hospital emergency room with a nurse pulling glass out of my face and hands. I kept asking "Where is Patrick?", "Where is Olivia?", "Are they okay?". The hospital staff was scrambling to keep the news quiet and away from my room. Little did I know, the entire Pleasant Hill community knew of our accident and most of my students had shown up to the hospital waiting room wanting to see me and console me.
Finally, Dr. Budke came into my room and she told me what had happened. She was so calm, so kind, so compassionate. I, on the other hand, was in complete shock. My worst nightmare, most parents' worst nightmare, had just come true.
In the swimming chaos that was going on in my head all I could do was ask: What am I going to do?
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