“The last time I saw your face unexpectedly it was the worst day of my life.” I thought to myself when I saw her walk through the door.
As all the other kids run and play, carefree, around me, I stand there as the panic consumes my mind, body, and soul. I’m overcome with the simultaneous urge to run toward her and away from her all at once.
The room is silenced by the ringing in my ears until I realize she’s calling me to her.
“Ashley, come here, sweetheart, we need to go.”
I don’t think I want to. If I stay here, I won’t have to find out why she’s come for me. I don’t want to hear whatever it is she has to say. I can’t hear it. I can’t handle any more bad news.
“Please, please, just go away, please.” I try to say, but nothing comes out.
She’s walking towards me now, reaching for my little hand.
As we walk out the front doors, I realize she’s pulled me to a stop. The brisk winter air nips me right in the nose. I can already feel the tears coming and I don’t even know why yet.
“Sweetheart, I’m here to pick you up, because something has happened to your brothers. They’re okay, but Casey has been hurt pretty badly. They were in a car accident and your mom is at the hospital so you’re going to come stay with me for a few days. Okay? Do you have any questions? They’re okay. We can call your mom when we get to my house. Okay?”
All I can do is focus on trying not to cry. Every time I cry these days, it makes other people cry and then I just cry more.
“Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. Be tough.” I repeat over and over in my head as we walk silently to the car.
About a month after we lost my dad in a fatal car accident, two of my older brothers wrecked on their way to school one morning.
One of them suffered a pretty substantial head injury. When my mom got to him in the hospital he was bleeding from every orifice of his head. He had two skull fractures and suffered from one of his eyes being stuck in a crossed position. He was in the hospital for quite a while and had to do a ton of occupational therapy. For many years he struggled adjusting to how his brain worked differently from that day forward.
We’re blessed to say he has fully recovered now, but it was a scary time for my family.
We were all still very much grieving the loss of my dad.
I was at after school care when a family friend (the same one who was sitting in my living room the morning I woke up to find out my dad had passed away) picked me up instead of my mom and I just knew something was wrong.
Going through these types of traumas at a young age forces you to find ways to cope with very little mental and emotional maturity. It demolishes your carefree child innocence. I remember being a seven-year-old who often worried who I love would be next to leave me forever and I spent a lot of years crying by myself, because I realized very quickly that crying little girls make other people sad.
I still resort to these thoughts and ways of coping. Often. Even as an adult. I have a hard time showing my emotion, letting my guard down, opening up to others. Not in fear of what they’ll think of me, but in fear of hurting them, affecting them, making them feel sad.
The bright side… I learned very early on in my life; if you love them, tell them. Often.
That was great. I’m sorry you endured that trauma. You captured it beautifully and it makes me think of your soul as beautiful. It reminds me of how at a certain age children have endured enough pain and disappointment that they lose that innocence in their eyes. Thank you so much for sharing. ❤️