Although today's calendar date is July 13, 2012, I am going to return in time to February 16, 2005, and relate the story of how the news of my son's death came to be delivered to me at our new Bed & Breakfast in Mexico.
My husband and I had just held the open house for our brand new bed and breakfast on February 14, 2005, in La Paz, Mexico. We had spent the day of the 15th having a large outdoor bar-b-q for our friends and just today, the 16th, were really getting things ready to begin the rental portion of the business.
It's lunch time and we had just went into the office to enjoy burros and a good, ice cold Corona when the phone rang. I pick it up and it's my oldest sister, and immediately I sense that something is off with her. She is much quieter than usual and I can sense that she is hesitant to tell me something. Our conversation goes something like this:
Sis: "Are you sitting down honey?"
Me: "Um no, but I can be. Uh wait a minute, do I NEED to be?"
Sis: "Yes, you need to sit down."
Me, sitting down: "OK, so I am sitting down now." waiting quietly for her to continue the conversation
Sis: "Is Dave there?"
Me: "Un hunh. Why?"
Sis, ignoring my question: "Do you have another phone so he can hear this conversation too?"
Me: "Nope, but if I hold the phone away a little bit, we can both hear you ok."
Sis: "Well, that will have to do I guess."
Me: "You're making me nervous, what's up?"
Sis: "Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this but ..." here my mind begins racing and I block out whatever she has just tried to tell me. I turn to Dave and, handing him the phone, say "I don't care what she needs to tell me, I can't hear this right now. Do you hear me?? I can't do this right now so I DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHATEVER IT IS!!" and ran out of the room.
When I left the room, I ran out the front doors and into the street. Dave came running out behind me, calling out to me ... "Honey, it will be ok, but I really need to talk to you." and I would scream back "NO, it will never be ok again and I don't WANT to talk to you! Whatever it is, I do NOT want to hear it, NOW or EVER!" I looked at him and whispered "I promise not to run out into the street but I do not want to do this right now. Give me a few minutes and I swear that I will listen. Just not now, ok? Not yet."
At this point, I didn't know what had happened or who it had happened to, I only knew that I didn't want to know that someone I love had left me. Was gone. Didn't matter who, I didn't want to know.
My husband is a wonderful man and he gave me a few minutes to myself. When he finally pulled me back inside, he sat me down and took both hands in his, and proceeded to tell me that our son, my beloved Danny, had been taken from us in a one car accident. I didn't want to hear the details, didn't want to know what had happened or how. It was more than enough for me to simply try to come to terms with the fact that my beloved boy was ... well ... gone. No chance for a good-bye or a hug. No time for one last "Love ya bud" or "stay safe". He was gone. That was all my heart could bear at that moment.
I walked back out into the street and sat on the window ledge (about 2' deep and 5' across) and just wailed. I remember screaming "Oh my God, why did You take him now?? He was just starting to get his life together!! Why??" I was so angry and at that moment in time, I hated God. I knew who God was but He had just allowed my son to be taken and I was in no mood for niceties. I believed in that moment, and for many terrible days after that moment, that God didn't care about me one iota and that He didn't know how much Danny meant to me. I believed that if He DID care, He would NEVER have allowed Danny be taken!!
Due to some unusual circumstances, our dear friends and also the pastors of our church found out about this loss almost simultaneously to us learning of it. Immediately they came over to our business. What I remember the most about that day is the utter anger I felt and the inability to move. I sat while my dear friend J1 held my hand and let me cry, literally, on her shoulder. I yelled at God with her sitting next to me. She never judged me or told me I was wrong to feel what I was feeling. I only remember her saying something along the order of "You know, Jean, God understands anger. It's what you do WITH that anger and AFTER that anger that will really matter to Him." At that moment, I didn't care. I wanted to die. I wanted to be buried next to my beloved Danny and not have to feel this tremendous, all consuming hurt any more. I just ... didn't want to be here.
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