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?