June 10, 2017

I broke today.  Into a thousand pieces I broke.  The sound of my breaking was deafening... even to me.

Screams so long and so loud their lamenting reverberated in my ears and my throat felt like shards of glass were flooding through it.  

I screamed for the moments I couldn't.  

*That moment when the car began flipping.... and it all seemed so surreal.

*That moment when I looked at my hand and it was torn open, bleeding and fingers were mangled. Not good, not good but that couldn't be my hand.

*That moment when my husband was suspended, hanging forward limp in his seatbeat his face obscured by blood... not knowing if he were alive.  I can't live without him.

*That moment when I saw the fear and confusion in my daughters' eyes as they were being pulled out of our vehicle's windows through shattered glass. I see blood.  What don't I see?  How badly are they injured?

*That moment when I saw my mother's head on my feet with her hair disheahvled, unmoving. I can't move.  I don't want to hurt her neck.  I hold very still.

*That moment when the hispanic man is telling me in Spanish something about the car, gas, explosion.... his insisting I leave the car.  But I can't... my mom... her neck... my husband at my side, blood all over but at least some movement.

*That moment when the man took my mother's pulse and said something to me I still can't hear.  I still can't hear.

I screamed, for I couldn't scream then.  I screamed and I screamed and I screamed till I didn't think my body could scream any more... but I couldn't stop.  The screaming went on.  

I screamed for the moments I couldn't.  

*That moment when I finally allowed myself to slip my feet out from under my mom's still figure.  Why didn't I smooth her hair, touch her cheek?  

*That moment when I realized we weren't headed to the same hospital.
This was not a proper good-bye.

*That moment when they seperated us all, my children, my husband, my self.  Would we ever be together again?

*That moment alone on the table, hand gnarled and bleeding, stomach purple and red, not knowing.  Would my husband survive?  Were my children alright?  Did I have internal injuries and would I be rushed into surgery?  Was my mom really dead?  Couldn't they save her? 

*That moment of being stuck on a bed pan after relieving myself only to have it leak down my back as I lay there unattended for 45 minutes as they try to save the person behind the curtain twelve feet from me. CPR. Clear.  Shock.  Continue CPR.  Clear. Shock.  Continue CPR.  I am certain it is what my mother's body is going through as well.

Then I wept.  Whole body wrenching cries from the deepest part of my soul.  I wept for the moments I couldn't weep.

*Those moments alone on the hard metal table not knowing. 
-Not knowing how to help. What was going on with my parents? How is my dad?  Is anyone checking on him?
-Not knowing how to go on if my frear are a reality... my mother is dead.  Our whole lives will have just changed forever. 
-Not knowing how to explain.  My girls... their Juju... their hearts breaking.
-Not knowing what to do.  If I need surgery I will need the girls to be safe both phyically and emotionally.

*Then that moment when they brought Shane to my side... relief and fear.  He asking me the same question over and over every few minutes while writhing in pain, "Honey, how are the girls?"  "Honey, are the girls ok?"  "Honey, where are the girls?" Over and over. "Honey, how are the girls?" Still blood on his face.  How broken is my beloved?  Will he recover?

*THAT moment alone in the tiny room in the children's ward.  THAT moment alone with them and me. It had to be that way.  THAT moment I told them their treasured Juju, the one who made every moment special, was gone. Gone.

THE SCREAMS OF MY OLDEST STILL ECHO IN MY EAR.  THE TERROR ON MY MIDDLE'S FACE AND HER INSISTING TO RUN... TO RUN AWAY AS FAST AS SHE COULD.  THE SOBS OF MY YOUNGEST AS SHE BURIED HER FACE IN MY LAP.

I wept for that moment... today.  I can't seem to stop weeping.  

Weeping for all the times in the car my children have been afraid and crying out.  All of the times my children jump, cry and have run when they have heard a loud noise.  All the weeks my husband just lay on the bed or couch in a virtual drug coma.  All those weeks I tried to comfort the girls, care for my husband, reach out to my father and sibblings, maintain some household care while having to undergo surgery and not having my dominante hand to help me.  

And my Right Hand is gone too.  She died that day.  My hand that would have been there to help me, guide me, to comfort me, to care for me and my girls... my husband... my dad... my family.  Nothing would/will ever be the same again.  We now all walk around without our dominante hand.  

I broke today.  Into a thousand pieces I shattered and the sound shook us all, yet it has been screaming in me like that for thirteen weeks unable to break through till today. 

Broken.  My heart is broken.  Broken for my father who lost his beloved.  Broken for my sibblings who lost their mother. Broken for my daughters, who lost the person who so celebrated and adored them.  Broken for me.  For the moments not savored, for the moments not had... for the moments that will never be. 

http://www.chicoer.com/general-news/20170314/chico-woman-dies-in-rollover-crash-on-highway-99

http://m.legacy.com/obituaries/chicoer/obituary.aspx?n=judi-wineroth&pid=184729990&referrer=0&preview=false