The Light Beyond

Meredith's story: please don't drink and drive

On September 13 at 3:00 am Joey lost his life about 8 hours later Zach lost his.  I was at work when Katelyn texted me saying Zach and Joey got into a car accident and died.  I didn't believe her until I called her and heard her shaky voice. I collapsed into a chair and began weeping and repeating no this cannot be true you're lying you're lying. . . . I barely made it to my house through the tears streaming down my face.  Zach and Joey were both only 19 years old.  They were two of the best friends a girl could ever ask for.  I was always Zach's girl that is how everyone knew me. . . .wherever we went everyone always called me his girl. We would always go out and party and then when we would get hungry about 2-3 in the morning we would always make BK runs.

This was an every night thing we never thought twice about drinking and driving until the day we lost two of the people we loved the most.  Zach and Joey were going over 100 when Joey lost control and hit a tree. 

Joey died on impact and Zach was barely holding on. They had to cut Zach's leg off to get him out of the car because the motor was sitting in his lap.  Zach and I were very close for a long time.  We would do everything together and just sit there for hours in the car talking about our lives and our dreams for the future. I never imagined that we would not be able to full fill those dreams and then sit in the car and talk about how far we had come in our lives.  Just because of one stupid decision made on a rainy night I lost two of my best friends.  I am thankful that no one else got hurt in this accident because it could have been a lot worse they could have hit another car instead of the tree they hit.  I miss them both terribly though Zach's death hits me a little closer because we were so close.  If my fiance had not been off of work that night I would have been in that car with them and I too would not be living today. 

I would give the world to bring Zach and Joey back to have one more hug from them and hear there voices one last time.  I never imagined my life without these two boys in it.  Its so empty without them I often catch myself going to dial Zach's number or looking at every car that looks like his to see if he is in it.  I miss riding my horse to Joeys house everyday just to hear him complain because my horse pooped in his driveway.  Because they decided to make that horrible decision that every single one of us that hung out has made they lost there lives and I will never be able to have them with me again.  I wish that people would learn to not drink and drive before they have to endure such a great loss like I did.  Two of the most caring loving people that were in my life are now gone for forever and I will forever have a hole in my heart where they used to be. 

Please don't drink and drive or let others drink and drive because yeah one night you may be fine but you never know what could happen the next time.

Curie's story: we'll catch up

I lost my father 12 years ago, quite suddenly to a heart attack. He was at work when he suffered his attack and his last words were "Call an ambulance!".

I was living two states away and I remember it being a beautiful day. I am now 48 years old, and still his absence cuts me to the bone sometimes. I have dreamt about him, and it's one dream in particular that has stuck with me the most. I shall relate it here in just a bit.

The mere suddenness of his passing has left the traditional open wounds and unresolved issues. Did I tell him that I loved him enough? Did I make sure he knew how much he meant to me? Did I ever get to prove that I am a man in my own right? Is he disappointed in me and in the way I live?

Such are the feelings that sometimes just grab me by the throat like a ravenous animal, and reduces me to tears, reverting me back to that same raw moment when I learned that he was gone. Sometimes, I try to discern what my dreams of him meant. In moments of clearer lucidity, it comes through, but in times like this I re-think my impressions and come up empty.

My Dream: I am at my parents' house. There are a lot of people there, like a holiday or something. People are sitting around the dining room table and my father is sitting at his usual place. Talk is light and cacaphonous, as my family is half-italian and there just seems to be a natural inclination for many conversations to be taking place at once. My dad is talking and laughing along with everyone else. Suddenly, he looks up at the clock on the wall, and says "Well, I guess I'd better get going". He rises from the table, and everyone says goodbye and good luck to him...like he's going to work, or on a brief trip.

I watch from the bar in the dining room. I am bewildered that he has gotten up from the table and is going into the bathroom. Where is he going? What does everyone know that I don't? After several minutes, he emerges. Not only is he decked out in jeans and t-shirt and leather jacket, he is a much younger version of himself. I get up from the bar and start walking towards him, to ask him what is going on. He is standing at the front door, and I stop him before he goes out. I ask him where he's going. I ask him if I can come with him.

At this point, I realize that I am asking to go with him because I am genuinely afraid; like something terrible could happen, and I want to be there to either protect him, or be on hand to share in whatever happens. He smiles, and tells me that I can't go with him. He deflects all answers as to why not. By now, I come to the realization that this is no ordinary trip, and that it has deep meaning. With tears in my eyes, I tell him that I don't want him to go. He embraces me and says that he has to. He then whispers something in my ear that I still don't entirely understand. He whispers: "We'll catch up."

He then turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. I never see him again. Behind me, the conversations are carrying on like before, like nothing unusual has happened. I then awaken. I should suffix this by relating that his youngest brother, my uncle whom I have been very close with all of my life, passed away suddenly this past September. I think of him often, and of course by doing so think of my father as well.

Sometimes the pain and grief and sense of loss isn't too bad. Other times, it cuts me clean in half. I assume that in their new heightened awareness, they see all and sundry that I have been and what I have become. I wonder if I have disappointed them terribly, and if they can ever forgive me for the things they never knew but know now. I don't know if I will ever catch up to my father, or if he would ever even want me to. Curie

Linda's story: the lasting impact of drunk driving

It has been nearly five years since my son and I were hit by a drunk driver. In an instant, he was taken from me and I was left to fight my way back into a life with meaning again. As a single mom, Scott was my life.

After being told day after day in my hospital bed that Scott was dead, I finally got it! But I still don't want to believe it. The journey back into life has been a hard one, but a rewarding one as well. Scott's friends, my friends, and our family never left my side as I struggled through years of depression.

While I was still in my wheelchair, almost 18 months later, a woman came to me and asked me if I would go to a CRASH program with her where she spoke to drunk drivers about the lasting impact they have on those around them. Now, three and a half years later, I have spoken to at least 50 groups and have helped start a memorial scholarship in my son's name at his high school.

You see, Scott was only 15 and the girl that hit us was only 17. These two young people both died because of a bad decision. I find my friends and family are my best resource for support, but getting my feelings out and making a difference is my best form of therapy and has helped me the most. You can see photos of Scott on my website at www.raidenshine.com (Scott's scholarship). Here is the url www.raidenshine.com/scottsscholarship.html.

I miss Scott desperately every day, but I know he would not want me to weep at his grave. He would want me to do all I could to save someone else's life. Linda

Cynthia's story: the loss of a father

It has been almost one year since I lost the the best man ever - my daddy - I miss him so horribly and I keep hearing time heals - well, I still feel like it was yesterday and it won't let up - any help or words of wisdom as I feel I am riding a never-ending pain train - he was a wonderful man - hard-working - charitable - loving and would give the shirt off his back to anyone who was in need - not a too shabby golfer either I might add - golf was his love - one day at age 76 he shot a 68 - I hear that's good - I'm not a golfer but he was an icon in this area - I miss his presence and the way he just filled the room when he walked in - a gentle peaceful man - love him and miss him so much - thanks for listening - Cynthia

Elaine's story: a widow's many "firsts"

The left side of the bed where my husband used to sleep remains neatly made, hardly a ripple disturbing the quilted surface. I sleep on the right side each night, where I had slept the twenty-plus years we were together. With time, I developed a habit of reading in bed. The left side remained neatly made, but on top of the quilted cover a mound of reading material gradually grew. I read about feng shui in the bedroom and wondered was I preventing another partner from entering my life by allowing that pile to grow? Was there a part of me that would rather be entertained by books than another partner?

I sorted through and cleared away my husband's clothes a few months after his passing, following an inexplicable but strong urge that struck me. Our bedroom was on the second floor, and with his illness, he had not been in that room at least six months prior to his passing. I went through the bedroom like a whirlwind, clearing out every corner, drawer and shoe box, getting rid of anything that resembled clutter or hadn't been used in years. I cleared all but the barest essentials for living. At night, I would lie in bed and stare into the dark, feeling the emptiness of the room, as it matched the emptiness in my heart.

When I took off my wedding ring the first time, I put it on my opposite hand. It felt strange to be on a finger where it didn't belong. I got used to it after a few weeks, but I wasn't sure what the protocol was for widows and rings. After several months, I took the ring off and put it on my dresser, but then months later, I resumed wearing it again on my right hand.

Switching the wedding band around felt awkward. After several more months, I removed it for the final time, wondering if my kids would notice. My youngest son one day remarked that my ring was gone and I told him I'd put it as a keepsake in my jewelry box. The last time I wore it was two and a half years after my husband's death.

The first time I went to a social event without my husband felt incredibly awkward, as if I were an imposter masquerading as someone single. Two of my children went with me, but I wondered how many people there, most of whom I knew, wondered about my state of mind since I'd been a widow a scant two months. Did I look happy, sad, ready to cry? Inside I was shaky and struck with inadequacy, as if half of me was missing and the remaining half didn't know how to act. I certainly didn't want anyone's pity, but I had this crazy notion people were feeling bad for me. I didn't stay long, but somehow I felt it was important that I had gone.

My first lunch by myself I slipped into the diner booth hoping no one would notice me. I sat there self-consciously, wishing I had brought something to read so I could keep my head down, my own way of hiding. I had gone in there just to see if I could do it by myself, a test, if you will. As I waited for my food I looked at the television showing the weather, the other patrons, some of whom I knew by sight, and out the window at the rain. My food arrived and after I ate and paid the bill. I walked out of there feeling as if I'd cleared a monumental hurdle, ultimately relieved that I had taken another step forward. It sounds trivial, and yet these little steps were my daily leaps forward.

Progress was measured some days by how long it had been since I'd cried. Was it silly to drive down the road and suddenly hear a song that made you cry? Not because it was "your" song, but because the poignant lyrics poked at something hurting inside. My first date in twenty plus years felt as foreign as if I was cheating on my husband. How do you pick up the pieces of a life gone awry, where it feels like you're a stranger in your own world? Where does loneliness end and desperation take over? How do you control the craving for human attention and affection? Many days I had questions and no answers.

The first wedding anniversary, birthday, holiday, Valentine's day and the first anniversary of his death I told myself I was okay, these were merely days on a calendar. I lied to myself and on bright sunny days I walked into our woods and cried. Even with the sun's warmth on my face, I felt an emotional mess. The biggest sustaining factor in my life was my kids. I knew they needed me as they faced their own "firsts" without their father in their lives.

Gradually, time, healing and loved ones' support made all the "firsts" bearable. Four years down the road, I realize I"ve successfully jumped many hurdles. It had not always been with perfect execution, but with overall strength and dignity. I've come into my own power once more as I applaud my accomplishments big and small.

Elaine Williams © 2008 www.ajourneywelltaken.com

Sam and Joe's story

Our reader Sam shares her story:

"On October 2nd 2007, my father sat me down on the couch in the living room along with my brother and sisters and he said that today, our family called from America. Your cousin Joseph had a motorcycle accident. I stood there still in shock and slowly tears started going down my cheeks. I asked my dad calmly trying not to scream not to show my pain in front of my family, is he okay? He replied, he died on the scene. When he told me that phrase, I started screaming, and hitting myself as hard as I could, I was screaming his name, hitting myself, calling my dad a liar... My sister was trying to recomfort me, I hit her, then my dad came next to me and held me tight so I could stop hitting myself. The next day I woke up, tried to go to school, I did... but eventually couldn't take the pain and started crying. So they sent me back home... Since we lived in Canada and they lived in California... my mom went to his funeral, I begged her to let me come with her, she told me she didn't want me to see this, yet I've been to many funerals. They came to Canada every year and we shared the best moments of our lives together. Joe had a sister, Rita, she and I we're really close and still are. But Joseph and I, we're even closer. We got out of the house at midnight, went to the park till 3 am, came back home and stayed up all night just talking. The whole family knew we were inseparable...

I love him so much and I'm not going to write I loved him so much, cause I still do love him and I always will. Joseph doesn't ride a motorcycle, he borrowed one from his friend... He died on Mount-Badly October 1st. We were always together, he talked to me about everything. He was like my best friend. Today, I regret a couple of things, like that time when we went to Quebec, I let him walk over the waterfall alone, I wanted to go with him but didn't have the courage so he went alone. I regret it. Sometimes, something would bother me, and he'd ask me what was wrong and I'd say nothing. He told me he didn't believe me. But I never cried in front of him or anyone because I don't want to look weak. Until one night, we had a conversation and he told me, what I'm doing isn't right, that he's a guy and cries so when I feel the urge to cry I shouldn't keep it in. I didn't listen to him that night. Today, I try my best to be like him, every time I get into an argument with someone I truly love, I have to apologize because I live in the fear of knowing that in 1 second, your whole life could change, and I didn't want to take that chance again. I say I Love You, to everyone I love every time I have the occasion, so if ever I leave this world, they'd all know I love them and care about them. Joe changed my life, even thought it isn't getting much easier... I'm staying strong for my family and him. I don't want to worry my family and I don't want them to mourn over me for long. I bought a ring engraved with his name on it. He died at age 18. Life is so short, and he made me realize it. So I'm passing on the message to all of you because I learned it the hard way.

May you Rest in peace, Joseph Fady Garabet.

We love you!"

Bianca's story: trying to cope with tragedy at a young age

Our reader Bianca wrote in recently with her moving story: "I'm 21 years old and to this very day I think about what might have been... when I was 18 my boyfriend was in a very bad car accident. Ever since then my whole life has changed, I'm not the same person I once was. Some days I know that I will be fine and everything is gonna be ok, but there are other days that I just want to die, and I ask myself why me, why him... is that selfish of me? Sometimes I just know that I cannot go on any longer.. I don't want to feel this way but I can't change the way my life has turned out! My heart yearns to see him again... I never knew that my heart could ache as much as it does... it's a pain that I cannot even begin to explain. I could go on and on because I have no one else who wants to listen or at least that's how I feel. It's hard to try to talk to someone who has yet to experience anything like this because they don't wanna hear it or they don't know what to say... when most of the time I don't need someone to say anything, all I needed was someone to listen to me."

Here is my response - perhaps other readers will also find it helpful:

"I am so very sorry for your loss. As always, it is difficult to know what to say; but please believe me when I tell you that you will not always feel like this.

To paraphrase a recent forum post of mine: it sounds like you are having suicidal thoughts, and I would say that perhaps you need to find a good counselor quickly. Could you make it your task for today to find a good counselor in your area, or at least make a few phone calls and start looking? There is lots of help out there. You just have to ask for it.

If you are ever feeling extremely suicidal, then please read this page: http://www.metanoia.org/suicide/ It only takes about 5 minutes.

As someone who spent a good ten years feeling suicidally depressed but has now made a full recovery, I know that recovery is possible. No matter how hard the circumstances. No matter what the cause. There will come a time when you feel genuinely happy to be here. Please believe me. Think of all the people you have yet to meet, all the experiences you could still experience, all the pets who you could look after and love, think of your friends and family and how much they would miss you, and hang onto every little thing that keeps you going. Hang in there.

Why not join the Light Beyond bereavement forum (it's free and quick to join) and post there to get advice and support from other members? Reading other people's posts there is also helpful...

Re. talking to people - I think many people would not realise that it is enough just to listen. Perhaps tell them what you need from them, i.e. someone to listen to you, and that they are not required to come up with 'solutions'. I think this is what people feel expected to come up with, which is why they feel awkward around people who are grieving, as of course there is no 'solution' or magic fix. Try telling your friends what you need from them and see if this helps.

May you find the peace you seek and the strength to cope with this tragedy. I am thinking of you. Hang in there, go easy on yourself, and get support from everywhere you can find it. There is no point in pretending to be strong at a time like this." Lucie

Sarah's story: the mirror of death

Although it is inevitable, losing a loved one is never easy. Suddenly a part of your life is gone and there is a gaping hole that was once filled with love. I, like everyone else, have had to cope with this emptiness, but it took the death of my dear friend, Sarah, a border collie who was my faithful companion for almost 16 years, to make a discovery that changed my life.

Sarah was an abused puppy we rescued when we lived in England. When we went looking for a dog, I was keen on another one that was in the foster home we visited, but she chose me. Her abuser had been a man and she feared all men, but for some reason she saw something in me, very much a man, that was different and boldly approached me wagging her tail. In spite of my protests, it was a battle I could not win. She was the dog for me and that was it.

Share YOUR story with our readers

Why not share your story with all our readers, so that others can learn and grow from your own experiences of grief and loss? Simply click on one of the Contact Us buttons to send us your story. Submission criteria...

Nana's story: a long and happy life

Nancy, one of our excellent team of writers, sent me the following email today: "Perhaps you'd be interested to know that as I write, Suzanne's 110-year-old Nana (paternal grandmother) is very near death in a nursing home in California. When she passes, which will probably be in the next few days, Suzanne will fly to San Francisco for the funeral. We're going shopping today for funeral clothes, as one tends to live in "comfy casual" here in the forest. I won't be accompanying Suzanne on this trip, as she's only going for two days, and last-minute air fares to CA are very expensive.

As for Nana... what an amazing woman! She is one of the few remaining survivors of the famous 1906 San Francisco earthquake, and the San Francisco Chronicle featured her in a wonderful article last year. Until last year, Nana was active, alert, and sharp. For example, although she was already over 100 when I met her, she (almost) always remembered my name. And she remembered the names of all of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She lived at home with her 80-something-year-old daughter until about 8 months ago, when caring for her became just too demanding. It’s been hard on the family to watch her decline after such a long and vibrant life, and so Nana's passing will bring a measure of relief, although she will be greatly missed. This funeral time, I'm sure, will be in the "celebration of life" category - a time of happy reunions and fond memories.

Just thought this to be a story worth sharing . . ."

And so did I, so here it is. God bless Nana, and her long and happy life.