Accidents Happen
Dear Andy:
Today marks 5 years since the accident. As I laid in bed yesterday, it was so hard to keep my mind from thinking about that night and the days that led up to it – if only there was some way I could have changed the outcome. But there isn’t. It doesn’t matter how guilty, ashamed, or angry I feel, I could not have saved you. There, I said it. And I hope you realize just how far that means I’ve come.
The accident happened early Sunday morning, March 30, 2008. The last time I saw you was Wednesday, 4 days prior…
And to think I got aggravated with you that Wednesday – we had fried egg sandwiches for supper, and you fixed yours after I’d put everything away. But did you bother to clean up? No, and I made sure to let you know it. If I’d known it was the last time we’d cook and share a meal together, we would have cooked every bit of food in the pantry and dirtied every dish and utensil in the cabinets. And I would have dealt with the mess later. I’m sorry I didn’t truly savor every moment we had together. But the accident still would have happened.
And then I was too busy to see you because I was being vain and shopping for a new outfit for the ladies’ retreat Thursday. Like I said, we hung out every day, so who really cares about one day? Besides, Lord knows I needed new clothes. Yeah, right. I am so embarrassed and ashamed by this that I just don’t even know what to say – and the top really wasn’t that cute, which makes it even worse. I’m sorry I took for granted the fact that you were always there. But the accident still would have happened.
And then I went out of town. It was my first time at the ladies’ retreat for church and it just got better as the weekend progressed. At the end of service Saturday night, I prayed for God to do whatever it took to see my family saved. Then I went on my merry way enjoying the retreat, and 6 hours later, you died. Talk about eating your words. It was so hard to regret not being home that weekend, and even harder to not regret that prayer. I really did mean it, but I didn’t know it would cost you your life. If only I had stayed home, maybe you wouldn’t have died alone in the pouring rain. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most. But regardless of whether I was home or thousands of miles away, the accident still would have happened.
And then Saturday night, I passed on my very last chance to tell you I loved you. Yeah, sister of the year right here, I know. After Saturday night’s service, I was on the phone with Kyle. He mentioned that he was with you at home and I asked him to hand you the phone. But before he did, I said never mind because I’d just see you tomorrow. It wasn’t a big deal. Oh, but it was a big deal. I should have made him give you the phone and then spent the rest of the night telling you over and over again how much I loved you. I’m sorry I gave up my last opportunity to tell you I love you because I was worried about you thinking I was being silly for telling you that since I’d be home the next afternoon. But the accident still would have happened.
And after the accident? I was angry, too. Angry that you drank so much. Angrier that you drove after said drinking. Angry that no one took your keys. Angry that you even bought that stupid truck in the first place. Angry that you were driving so fast. Angry that you didn’t wear your seat belt. Angry that you were an absolute idiot that night and made some really bad choices. Angry that I had to figure out how to live without you…
But you know what? I’ve been working on all that guilt, shame and anger, and I’ve finally just about got it all straightened around. Yes, I still have days where those emotions get to me, but now I can put them in their place.
About that Wednesday – I regret snapping at you over a pointless tub of butter and a half dozen eggs, but that wasn’t the last thing I said to you that night. As you left and we discussed weekend plans, I gave you a hug and told you I loved you because I knew I wouldn’t talk to you before Sunday. There is absolutely no guilt in that.
Thursday? OK, let’s be honest – one day out of… lets see. You were alive for exactly 8,001 days of my life, so, yeah. 1 out of 8,001. We crammed 80 years’ worth of memories into those other 8,000. That’s something to be proud of, not ashamed.
That weekend? Because being at home would have been so much better than being in a place where I could be bathed in prayer when I needed it most. False. I prayed a prayer I was supposed to pray, and God proved His faithfulness by putting me in the best possible place I could have been at the time – surrounded by His daughters and countless prayer warriors.
That phone call? Um, flash back to Wednesday night and our very last conversation. The last thing I said to you was, “I love you.” The last thing you said to me was, “I love you, too.” And we said it on a regular basis, so it’s not like you didn’t know I loved you. Plus, think of the infinite possibilities of what our last words could have been. Turns out we nailed it.
And about all that anger. Well, it’s pointless. If you or anyone else would have known what was going to happen, you would still be here. Accidents happen – sometimes sheerly by accident, sometimes as unintended consequences of poor choices. I can’t be angry over that. It was an ACCIDENT. Plus, look at all the stuff I can do without you:
I can cook anything I want.
I can hunt – and actually kill something.
I can teach kiddos who treat their siblings the way we treated each other.
I can travel all those places we always said we were going to go.
And – check this out – I can run like Forrest Gump (This pic is actually from today).
Today, the 5-year anniversary of the worst day of my life, I ran my very first 5k. I have spent the past 5 years living without you, but today marks a new beginning. I’m ready for life without you, so I decided to take the Word literally and run an actual race to celebrate.
Hebrews 12:1 (NLT) says, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.”
You finished your race, but I’m still running mine. And it’s time for me to get busy again.
Hugs to Jessie and Cupcake.
All my love,
Jenny
p.s. – Tell Cupcake happy first birthday.
Dear Andy: 