FROM JOURNEYS DARK
COMES THE LIGHT
WRITTEN:
September 3, 1997

        How can I put into words the things that I feel.  How do I explain feelings that most people  couldn't possibly understand? I don't even understand them myself.  It was June 29, 1971, 3 days before my 19th birthday.  I had Mother Earth by the apron strings.  The way I looked meant more to me than most things.  I never left the house unless my hair, make-up and clothing were to perfection.  It's hard to put myself back there again.  My insides are quivering as I write this.  Fear is setting in, and I can feel the tears just inside my eye lids.  I will try to write this down, I will do my best.
        It was going to be an evening of shopping, one of my favorite things.  I grabbed Candace, my 3 year old niece, jumped in the car and took off.  The ride was just like any other day in my life.  The music was playing.  Candace and I were singing, as we usually did, to entertain ourselves.  I got to that overpass, that I had driven over a million times before, only to have one of the darkest and most painful experiences in my life.
        As the road curved over the highway, I could see a car heading right at me.  Quickly, I threw my arm up in front of Candace to brace her.  Then instantly the car, driving in the middle of the bridge, hit me head on.  The sound was deafening. Everything went black.  I awoke and my head was swimming.  My eyes were foggy.  I could not figure out what had happened.  As it came back to me, I looked for Candace. There she was on the floor-board of my car.
        I reached out to her, but I couldn't move.  Something was holding me.  I tried to stretch out to reach her, but as I almost touched her she started whimpering and backing away from me.  I didn't know why she was scared.  My eyes seemed to go dark with warm liquid.  I looked down at my blouse.  It was covered in blood.  What is happening? I thought. Why is there blood on me?  I tried to look in the rear view mirror to see my face.  At the time I didn't think that I had quite made it.  God kept that secret from me.  He blocked the image from my mind until six months later.
        A man appeared at my door and tried to open it.  It was crushed from the impact.  He told me that the steering wheel was smashed against my pelvic area and he would try to get it off.  My head was swirling and my eyes kept going dark, I touched my face to see what was in my eyes.  I realized it was blood.  It kept gushing into my eyes and blocked my vision.  I finally realized that Candace was afraid of me. Afraid of the horrible sight that my face had become.   I turned my face away from her and tried to talk to her, to soothe her from her fear.  She continued wimpering.
        The man was now on what used to be the hood of my car.  He reached into the empty space where my windshield had been.  He actually bent the steering wheel off of me just enough so I could move out from under it.  I couldn't see.  The blood kept enveloping my sight.  Someone was taking Candace out of the car.  My protective instincts took hold.  "What are you doing? Who are you? Leave my niece alone."  I heard a voice, a female I believe, she tried to calm me down.  "It's OK hun, I'll hold her for you until the ambulance gets here."  I couldn't see anything.  All I could think was that I had to get out of here.  I had to help Candace.
        I scooted across the seat to the passenger side of the car and tried to get out, but I was so weak that I couldn't do it.  I knew that I was unable to help Candace.  My strength was gone. I could hear, wimpering, next to me.  Then when I heard the sound of sirens in the distance, I thought, thank God, get here quickly and get Candace to safety.  Someone put a towel in my hand and told me to put it against my face.  I think I tried to, but I don't remember anything until being in the emergency room.
        I could hear people scurrying around me, but I couldn't see.  Someone took my hand, placed it on the towel they had on my face, and told me to put pressure on it.  My hand just fell back down.  I was too weak.  How dumb, I thought, can't they see that I can't hold my hand there.  I could hear Candace whimpering.  It seemed she was at my head, but I couldn't turn to see her.
        Then someone held my hand.  I couldn't see, but I knew it was my brother Mike.  He was trembling so bad my whole arm was shaking.  I heard someone say "Put pressure on that, she's bleeding profusely".  I don't know who it was, maybe Mike, but I felt the pressure on my face.  I don't remember our conversation. We must have spoken, but it's a never ending fog to me.  Then I heard my brother Larry talking to Candace. Finally, her dad was there.  I cried out, "Larry, I'm sorry, it's not my fault, I didn't mean to hurt Candace.  The woman was in the middle of the bridge and she hit me, I'm sorry, I'm sorry".
        A Police officer began asking me questions, he wanted to know if there was anything I could have done to avoid the accident.  Of course in my smart "&%#" way, I said "Well I could have driven off the side of the bridge. I was afraid I would have gotten run over by a semi in the middle of the highway though".  Then, I believe, the doctor arrived and people started working on me.  The doctors asked the officer to leave and they washed the blood from my eyes.  I could see again.  The doctor kept asking me if I could see and where did I hurt.  The last knuckle of my pinkie finger on my left hand really hurt but that was it.  Weird, I know, someone must have watching over me.
        Then I heard the doctors talking in a distance, "She can see right now but she could be blind by the morning".  I'm not sure if it came out of my mouth or not but I remember thinking, "I can see, I can see".  What are they doing to me? What is wrong? I thought.  The blood covered my eyes again.  I heard the doctor say something about a tube and "open your mouth and take a deep breath".  He was trying to put a tube down my throat.  It was gagging me, and I told them I was going to throw up.  The doctor said "No your not, just relax".  Well at least I got a joke out of that one. I threw up right in his face and he said "That'll teach me to listen to YOU next time".  That's the last thing I remember until the next morning.
        I awoke to severe pain in my head, tubes running down my throat, and blood oozing through the tubes.  They were gagging me.  I couldn't talk.  My throat was so raw, and the slightest movement brought pain.  Nurses, doctors, and relatives were coming in and out, I still didn't know what was wrong.  I asked everyone who came in, "Where's Candace and is she all right?".  I got evasive looks and explanations that they were just keeping her for observation.  I thought she was dead.  I felt the truth was being hidden.  I  kept getting sick because of the tubes gagging me. What a relief when they finally they took them out.
         On July the 1st, I was still asking about Candace.  Finally, Sandy, Larry's girlfriend, told me the truth.  It had been kept from me because of my mental state.  Candace had to be operated on because of a ruptured spleen.  It was all my fault.  I thank God Sandy finally told me.  I finally knew my little girl was not dead.  I can't tell you the guilt that overwhelmed me.  It is indescribable.  Why did I take her with me? How could I have hurt someone I love so much.  Speaking of it now the tears stream down my face.  I love Candace so much.  I am so sorry I did this to her.  I am also so grateful that she was allowed to become the young woman she is today.  When I think about where I could have put her that fateful day my heart breaks again.
        What a birthday the next day.  The doctor came in to take the bandages off of my face.  I feared to think about what it looked like.  A nurse asked me if I wanted a mirror to see my face.  It didn't look bad she said.  OK I thought, hmmmm maybe it won't be bad.  She gave me the mirror.  I slowly raised it to my face.  My God the horror I felt when I saw my once cute face slashed to pieces.  I had hit the metal bar between the windshield and the driver's window with such force it split my skull.
        My left eye was so swollen and black.  There were stitches everywhere.  My forehead lacerated in two places from my hairline down to my eyebrows.  The left laceration on the forehead continued down through the eye lid and all the way to the bottom of my cheek.  From the left corner of my eye another laceration that met in a "V" shape with the first one.  My tears flowed.  I couldn't bring myself to touch the horror of my face.  When the tears reached the under part of my chin I would wipe them away.  The tears were tears of blood.  My tissue was saturated in blood and the tears just wouldn't stop.
        Later that afternoon friends, relatives, and nurses came to celebrate my birthday.  The nurses brought me a little cake which I didn't get to eat because I couldn't hold anything down.  They put me in a wheel chair and wheeled me down to the waiting room where all could stare at my horror.  I know this wasn't the intent but that is just the way I felt.  Everyone was sweet and sincere, but the darkness overwhelmed my being.  All I could think about was getting out of there.
        I asked to go back to my room because I was so weak.  I could hardly sit up.  The nurse wheeled me back to my room, and I asked if I could sit by the window for a minute or so.  She pushed me to the window and left the room.  For some reason the screen wasn't on the window.  The window was open.  I was on the third floor over looking the cemetery.  I thought this is my chance.  I'm out of here.  I pulled myself up to the window and was trying to lean out of it when the lady in the room with me started screaming for help.  I tried with all my might to lean far enough out that window to fall to the ground, but my body went limp and I fell back into the chair.  The nurse ran back into the room. The woman was yelling that I was trying to jump.  I convinced the nurse I just needed to breath the fresh air.
        The next nine years were filled with tears and pain.  I longed to die.  No amount of words from anyone could bring me back.  I sat at one point with a gun to my head praying for the courage to pull the trigger.  I couldn't bring myself to do it, I had been married and had a son by that time and he had to be my concern.  My 3 children are my life now, and suicide has never entered my thoughts again.  Although I do long to go home, to Heaven, where there is no more pain or sorrow.  I spend my time trying to teach my children of the fun and laughter that life has to offer.  Laughter has gotten me far from the pain of the accident.  I pray each and every day that my children never have to experience the darkness that brought me to where I am today.
        The scars on my face are hardly visible to most people.  They will always be visible in my eyes.  I don't think about them much unless I am forced to look at a picture or a video of me.  Then my sorrow comes back, but just for a little while.  I look at my children's beautiful gentle faces and thank God I lived to be a part of their lives.  The scars that are deep inside of me may be here forever, I fear.  I have learned the lesson of vanity but, hard as it was, I have overcome.
        If I hadn't been in that accident there is no telling who or where I would be today.  I am proud of whom I have become.  I look into the soul of people now.  The outside fades away, and at times I couldn't even tell you what a person looks like in reality.  I remember what the soul looks like.  To me it is the only way.  I have seen many who live for their looks and inside they show an ugliness.  I have a hard time seeing the beauty they are known for because it turns to ashes for me.  So when you ask me if someone is good looking I may not answer in the same reality as you have.
        In writing this, once again, I have been forced to face myself.  Pushed to understand the impossible to understand.  My life is so full now, full of love and laughter.  The darkness that was my soul has turned to light.  Now I am able to understand the reasons why.  I try to bring laughter into everything and I know it may be at weird times.   Hey, what the heck, if you can't laugh in the darkest times of your life you might just lean a little too far out that window.  In my heart, I'm glad I didn't.
        This is the first time I have put to words the pain that is inside of me.  I think it has done me much good.  I close with a portion of my soul brought out into the air to go to wherever the darkness goes.  I have been blessed to have learned this lesson in my life.  It only took me 20 years to realize it.