One Year Later

Its been a while since my last post.  I've sat down to start a couple of times, but just haven't had a chance to write what I wanted to.  The last couple of days I have been thinking a lot about what I wanted to say today.  I thought a lot about the accident and the events that transpired.  I've thought about the Good Samaritan that responded as soon as the accident happened.  He called me to let me know what happened, and watched over my family while the fire department showed up.  I remember him telling me that Melissa was awake and that she gave him my number and that our little boy was in the back seat crying.  I asked him about Ethne and he didn't know what to say, he just wasn't sure.  He finally saw that she was breathing, but she was not responsive.  While waiting at the scene I wasn't sure what to do.  At first I didn't call anyone because I didn't want them to stress or worry, but then I realized that my family, who may not be alive at the end of the day, needed all the prayers that they could get.  As we sat there waiting for any information, I heard a helicopter fly over.  At first I thought it was maybe a news team, but quickly realized that Ethne was going to go in that helicopter.  About that time we found out that Melissa was in critical condition and would be flown to the hospital as well.  The next couple of nights I would stay awake in Melissa's room and listen as the helicopters were continually leaving and coming back.  I arrived at the hospital and was informed that a couple of miraculous events transpired on the helicopter that kept Ethne alive until she made it to the hospital.  I think she needed to be alive until we arrived to see Edward.  Right after I saw Edward and was able to hold him, the doctors had informed me of Ethne's passing.  Then came the agony of waiting to hear how Melissa was doing.

I still have flashbacks to what happened that day.  I still see Ethne's body wrapped up in a blanket as I held her.  I still remember seeing Melissa's cousin and brother watching over Edward with there wives as I ran around not knowing what to do next.  I remember the support of family members who have also lost children being right there for us.  Dropping everything just come and sit with me in silence.  I still even think about the driver of the truck and pray that he finds some comfort as well.

I want to thank everyone who has prayed for us, offered some form of aid to help us with medical and other bills, who have told us that our names are on the prayer roles of many different temples, and especially our families who have been so patient and understanding as we have had to face this struggle.

Before closing, I want to share an experience I had yesterday.  Its kind of personal, and I wasn't sure I was going to, but I think it could help someone who may suffer something similar.

Before going to work every morning (at least since the accident) I have been waking everyone up for family scripture and prayer.  I think its partially because my last memory of Ethne was because she woke up and we decided to get Edward and have prayer as a family, instead of just Melissa and I.  As I woke him, he laid in his bed for a minute, stretched, and then rubbed his eyes.  He then proceeded to get up and, as he usually does, reach out for my hand to keep his balance as he walks towards me with his arms out.  As he did this, I was reminded of a story that I heard in a recording from President Ezra Taft Benson.

"In a certain home, a little boy, the only son, was ill with an incurable disease. Month after month the mother had tenderly nursed him, but as the weeks went by and he grew no better, the little fellow gradually began to understand the meaning of death and he, too, realized that soon he was to die. One day his mother had been reading the story of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, and as she closed the book the boy lay silent for a moment, then asked the question that had been laying on his heart. 'Mother, what is it like to die? Mother, does it hurt?' Quick tears filled her eyes. She sprang to her feet and fled to the kitchen, supposedly to go get something. She prayed on the way a silent prayer that the Lord would tell her what to say, and the Lord did tell her. Immediately she knew how to explain it to him. She said, as she returned from the kitchen, 'Kenneth, you will remember when you were a little boy, you would play so hard you were too tired to undress and you tumbled into your mother's bed and fell asleep. In the morning you would wake up and much to your surprise, you would find yourself in your own bed. In the night your father would pick you up in his big, strong arms and carry you to your own bedroom. Kenneth, death is like that; we just wake up one morning to find ourselves in the room where we belong because the Lord Jesus loves us.' The lad's shining face looked up and told her there would be no more fear, only love and trust in his heart as he went to meet the Father in heaven. He never questioned again and several weeks later he fell asleep, just as she had said. This is what death is like."

I thought of this story as I helped Edward wake up yesterday.  Then I thought, as Ethne woke up, who held her hand as as she awoke?  I would like to think that, if it wasn't the Savior himself, that it was a family member.  Maybe a cousin, an uncle, and an ancestor that has had influence on our lives.  Thinking that it was someone in our family who has passed on and we can still feel close to helps me feel even more comfort that she is being taken care of and guided still today. 

We still love and pray for you princess.

- Lawrence