Dec. 21, 2013 – one day I will never forget. 4:30 a.m. – a time I will never forget. The phone is ringing at 4:30 a.m. on Dec. 21, 2013. “This can’t be good” I thought to myself. “Hello?” I said. “Mom, there’s something wrong with Dad”. It was my son Austin calling from Texas. He and his younger sister Jane were living with their Dad, my ex-husband in Texas and had been for 15 years. We spoke and saw each other frequently but this phone call was far too early in the morning to signify anything but something wrong. I went immediately into “Mom” mode. “It’s ok Austin. I’m here. Your Dad will be okay”. I had no idea of course what the problem was but for whatever reason, my immediate reaction to Austin saying “there’s something wrong with Dad” prompted me to reassure him that his Dad would be okay. He was always ok. Sure he got himself into “situations” and had had a few health problems, but nothing that he couldn’t deal with and nothing ever that he, my childrens’ father, couldn’t rectify. “No Mom, he won’t be okay. Dad died”. I remember the room spinning and my brain just clouded over. “What?” I had to ask again because although I heard the words “Dad died” , they were not making any sense in my brain. “Austin, where are you? Are you okay?”. “I’m at the house. The Police are here” he replied. I sat up quickly and said “Put them on the phone”. A young sounding Officer spoke to me and filled in the blank spaces as well as he could. “Please put my son back on the phone” I requested. I heard the phone being handed back to Austin and he quietly said “hello”. “Austin, where is your sister?” “She’s at Scott’s” he answered. “Ok, Austin, listen to me. I will call Janie. I am coming to you. I will be there today. I’m calling your sister. Are you ok?” What a stupid question to ask. “I’m okay Mom” and whatever was said after that point I cannot recall. My mind was racing. It was like I was skiing down a huge mountain in a very thick fog – hearing things as they whistled by me but not really “hearing” them. I called Jane at her boyfriends’ house. Her boyfriend - Scott – she was with him at his parent’s house. Scott’s Dad picked up the phone and his voice had the same sound of concern as mine did when the phone rang at my house earlier. Scott’s Dad was like a second-father to my daughter so I knew she would be ok until I got there. “Greg, it’s Laura – Janie’s Mom. Andrew died earlier this morning”. Now two of us were skiing down the hill in a blanket of fog. “Do you want me to tell her?” he asked. I knew it was something I had to do – she had to here it from me. “No I will tell her. Can you get her on the phone?” Greg was walking as he was talking – I remember speaking quickly as if the faster I spoke the sooner the nightmare would end. I heard him enter the room where my daughter was asleep, oblivious to the news of her Father’s death. “Janie” Greg said to her. “It’s your Mom”. “Momma?” Janie said. Instinctively she knew something was wrong. “What’s wrong Momma?”. I remember saying, “don’t worry – I’m coming – Austin is okay – but your Dad died”. There was dead air as she processed what I just said. And again, I don’t recall much of the conversation after that point other than it was brief “get to Austin” I said. Stay with Austin. Have Mr. Greg go with you. Stay with your brother. I’m coming there on the first available flight. I’ll be there as soon as I possibly can be”. She was crying of course but Janie being Janie, listened to me and I believe she re-iterated what I had told her. “I’m going to the house now Momma. I’ll stay with Austin. Mr. Greg will be with me”. I then called Austin back and told him his sister would be home in minutes and that I was arranging to fly from Toronto to Texas on the next flight. “okay Mom” he said. And from that point on I was in a race against time to get to my kids before the impending ice storm hit the Toronto area. I called my oldest sister Linda and told her the news. Then I called my sister Jane, 5 years older than me. “I’ll meet you there” she said, no if ands or but’s about it – she was flying out of Atlanta and would meet me in Houston. “I’ll call you back with your flight information” she said. I then called my brother Tom whom I had never had a close relationship with but again, for reasons I will never fully understand, I had
to call him – he was a retired Police Officer – he dealt with these situations before – crisis management was his middle name. “Make notes” he said. “Write times and names of everyone you speak to down on paper. Write everything down”. Made sense. Andrew hadn’t been ill, he was young and by all accounts in good health – which only added to the confusion surrounding his sudden death. I started to gather my things together – a note book was on the top of my list. A notebook, several pens, clothes were grabbed without any forethought and thrown into a suitcase. My sister Jane called me back with the flight details. Three hours – I had 3 hours before my flight. Well, actually I only really had 1 hour to get to the airport – with it being Christmas time and with Customs needing to be cleared – I had to get to the airport within the hour to ensure I would make my flight. I got to the airport, hurriedly said goodbye to my Husband John and stepdaughter and rushed inside. I do not remember much from the time I said goodbye to John to the time I landed in Houston. I honestly don’t. The next thing I do remember is finding my way from the gate at Bush Int’l Airport to the escalator that would take me to baggage claim – yes, baggage claim – that was where I was going to meet up with my sister Jane. I was standing at the top of the escalator, barely able to keep myself upright, gripping the hand rail tight to steady myself. I clearly recall looking down and seeing my sister looking up at me as I descended on the escalator. It was like everything else just melted away – I saw nothing or no one but her – standing there just as she said she would be, waiting for me. I fell into her arms, sobbing and shaking and just sort of collapsing into her. At that point, things got real – fast. No sooner had I let go of my sister and I see my daughter running through the crowd of people toward me. She was barefoot. We stood there holding each other for several minutes. I just kept repeating “It’s okay Janie my girl. I’m here. Everything will be okay”. The 3 of us made our way to the exit. “Austin is waiting in the truck” my daughter said, “it’s easier that way” she said. Yes of course it’s easier I remember thinking. You see, Austin is confined to a wheelchair. I could not get to the truck fast enough. Horns were blaring, people flying past me. I did not care. I had to get to my son. I don’t know who took my bags. All I remember is running over to the passenger side of the backseat and grabbing the handle and opening the door. And there he was. My boy. In actual fact he was a young man – 19 years of age to be precise but in my heart he was “my boy”. I reached up, he bent down and we hugged for many minutes. It was at that moment that I actually believed what I had been saying since 4:30 a.m. – everything would be okay.