This is the next in our series The First Moments.
When our spouses pass, it can be difficult to be in the location where the loss occurred. In Jeni’s case, her husband passed in front of the shed in the backyard. For a long time, going by that location was difficult and still sometimes causes emotions to flow. For Teresa, her husband was killed on a country road in a motorcycle accident. Today, she is going to talk about the first time she had to pass by the accident scene and the emotions that arose during that time and since.
After being informed my husband was killed in a motorcycle accident in the crammed principal’s office with staff and state troopers, they went and got the boys from their high school. My fantastic administration wasn’t about to let me or the boys drive home after this traumatic news.
All I could think of is I don’t want to get into his truck and drive home, that’s his truck and not mine. I’ve written about these moments in my memoir. I’m finding it’s easier to copy the excerpt here. God– reading this and reliving this sucks, still.
Excerpt Chapter 1, page 11, Soul Love:How a Dog Taught Me the Breathe Again.
Eventually, we gather our things to leave. The administration has a plan for this as well. We have to get my car home and the truck that Korey drove to school. In the numbness of grief and shock, we manage to pile into the admin’s SUV. They won’t let me or Korey drive, so an admin takes us back to the high school to claim Big Red, Kris’s F-250 pickup. We’ve taken that truck on every RV vacation and Scout trip, always with Kris. How can any of us get into it now? We remain in the admin’s SUV and she drives us back to the house. Another follows in my car and a third drives Big Red. A convoy of grief.
As we’re driving home, the boys say, “Mom, we took the truck so he could take the car if he wanted to. It was chilly and misting.”
I tell them, “I know, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
An uncomfortable silence ensues, in which the poor admin tries to get us talking about trivial stuff.
“Wow, look how pretty it is out in the country! Hey, we’ve been having warm weather.”Silence.
“How’s football going, Kurtis?”
Muffled, “Okay.”
“How is your girlfriend, Korey?”
No reply.
I appreciate what she’s doing, but for most of the ride we sit in a stunned state of shock.
Then I see the spray paint marking the scene of the accident, and almost barf. Distracted by the admin’s questions, the boys haven’t noticed the huge skid mark, or the green outline of a body on the road.
“Please stop,” I say. “I need to see this.”
“No, not today,” the admin replies. “Let’s just get you all home safe.”
I ask again, and the boys ask, too, but she doesn’t stop.
I never do stop and get out to see the accident scene, never ever.
** end of excerpt **
Here’s the thing, that accident scene was on our way out of the country into the rest of the world. We had to drive by it at least twice a day, if not more often. The darn paint lines and long skid marks were really permanent and a good friend who was a first responder asked them to please remove them after driving by for weeks.
The darn red paint remained for months and months. Not a day would go by when we drove by on our way to school, church, football, shopping and then back again. Each time, we had to view the site where it happened and each time, the feelings of a gut punch, anger, sadness, and pure grief would arise. Over time, these feelings would be less intense.
One day, on the way to work, there was a white cross at the corner where the accident was. I almost stopped but then couldn’t, I was surprised and had forgotten some of our friends had mentioned they were going to do this. Did they tell me they were going to put this up? In my grief fog, I couldn’t remember, I vaguely remember seeing a text and maybe a photo of the plaque that was on it. Well there it was, Kris’s memorial crash site.
I still never have stopped, nor did I ever photograph the cross or site. I now live elsewhere. A few years ago, I drove past the site with the intent to see the old house and ranch. Of course I had to pass by the darn crash site. I noticed that even years later someone, one of the many human angels, had lovingly trimmed the weeds back and the area around the cross was all neat and tidy. I have no idea who might have done that but it touched me and I’m grateful.
Our hope is that you never have to experience this sort of experience but if you do, may our words be of comfort. If you have a first you experienced that we missed in our list of topics, please let us know. We would be happy to write about a topic you need to hear about. We invite you to give us a story to include if you like to share.
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Many blessings to you all,
Jeni & Teresa
PS: For additional support you can download our free copy of 10 Ways to Move Forward After Loss
Torn in Half: The First Days as a resource for the first days after a loss – available on Amazon in paperback and ebook.
