NEVER HOPELESS

No one knew the perfect day was about to be shattered.

The grandmother was finished her visit with her daughter and son-in-law and she was thrilled with the plans for taking the grandkids with her back to New Jersey to spend time and a part of their summer vacation at her home for fun and time at the beach. The children, ages 9 and 11, jumped into the car, bags were thrown into the back, belts fastened and they headed out tossing out big smiles, “I love you”s, and big waives.

Within one hour of that happy send off, I found myself pulling up to the house, nestled back amongst a thick stand of pines, not even visible from the road, with a heavy heart and a swarm of butterflies in my stomach working their way up to my throat. I put the cruiser in park and sat there for a few moments unable to pull the handle to open my door and get out. I couldn’t believe I actually had to do this. But it had to be done. They had no idea what was approaching at that very moment just outside their perfect little life.

I got out, put on my hat, adjusted my uniform and began that long walk up that short trail to their front door. My legs felt like lead and my mind was numb as I searched for words, any words, to gently communicate what had to be said. But there were none. I’m no good at this. But someone had to do it.

I approached the front door and listened to the hustle and bustle going on inside and my mind was racing with fear and apprehension as I listened, and a great sadness came over me. I rang the doorbell and waited until a teenage young man answered the door and I asked him if his mother and father were home. “MOM! DAD! It’s for you!” he called and walked away from the door, closing it and leaving me outside. I felt that was completely appropriate, like he knew that I wasn’t there for any good reason and he wasn’t going to be the one to invite this communicator of nightmares into the house.

The young man’s mother came to the door bearing a huge smile, merrily greeting me and she invited me in. I had a hard time even looking her in the face as I felt terrible for her. At my request she summoned her husband and we went to a quite room. I had removed my hat and noticed that I was holding it like a small child might hold a tattered cap as he apologizes for a broken window or some other small misdeed. They sat patiently waiting as I fumbled with words and suddenly I couldn’t say anything. My throat had closed off and nothing would come out. I stood there speechless and tears were welling up in my eyes as I didn’t want to destroy these wonderful people and their seemingly perfect life. They were about to learn that it was far from what they thought, for death was calling.

“Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I regret to inform you that there’s been an accident involving your mother and children and that your mother has not survived her injuries. The children are in serious condition and have been air-lifted to Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia where they are currently undergoing treatment for their injuries.”

Death notifications are for me, the most difficult part of what I had to do. I hate them. I feel so terrible for the people and I’m absolutely helpless to do anything to make it easier for them. I liked being the helper, the rescuer, the fixer. But in those situations there is absolutely nothing I can do to make it any better. Being kind and compassionate is a help but seems to be…… empty….and must seem hollow somehow as the reality of what you have unleashed on them comes to bear on their minds.

The reactions can be wildly different for different people. This was no different. Mr. Smith stood there and looked at me with a blank expression on his face and then turned his attention to his wife as she took to flight, screaming throughout the house “NO! NOO!” as if she could out run the news. I will never forget those screams or the look of complete loss on Mr. Smith’s face. But then something else happened. I was shocked as he looked at me with tears in his eyes and actually apologized. I couldn’t hold my tears any longer. What a compassionate man. He felt bad for ME? I must have done something completely wrong. I’m trying to be gentle to them, compassionate to them, yes, even loving to them in this terrible moment in time, one they will never forget and he feels for me? What a lesson that was. We stood silently, awkwardly, and he went to get his wife and try to console her as it was her mother who had died. I explained the circumstances as best as I knew them and the condition of the children which was grave but CHOP was one of the finest facilities they could have been sent to and they were getting the best care possible.

So when do you leave? I offered to call friends, family, their pastor, anyone they wanted but they refused. I suppose I was trying to offer them some hope as I focused most of the conversation on the children because that was the only point in this whole ordeal that had held any kind of promise at all, regardless of how bleak it looked. And then I left. The wreckage was wrought, like a tornado that comes and goes.

The children did survive despite terrible injuries but that family will live with the memory of the day that death came calling for the rest of their lives.

I wrote this and gave it to a friend to read. They couldn’t understand how this would fit into a blog that is supposed to offer some up-turn, some spin towords feeling better, some promise of HOPE. Well, this real life story is just that; Life. You know as well as I do that at times there is no way you can see any shred of hope linked to what you are going through. But maybe the knowledge that you are not alone, that someone else has been there, IS THERE NOW, is a comfort and provides just enough vulnerable connection to humanity that allows you to take another breath. There are some of you who know what I mean. It can get so bad that it even hurts to blink. If you are there, I’m sorry. If you have been there and have made it through, someone needs you. No experience is wasted. Hang in there. I’ll be here.