A tragedy transition for the entire family.

For nearly two years my children and I flourished. Work was going well (got two raises at regular day job), acquired many new accounting clients, was able to quit night job, kids were growing like weeds, and there was much laughter, security, peace, and contentment in our home.

Until the bottom fell out of everything. At the end of August of the second year, I answered the phone at work at 10:30 in the morning, believing it to be my youngest son calling to say "I wuv you, Mum" as he did every morning. However, the call was from a very rude, crude, and socially unacceptable woman who brusquely told me "You better get to the emergency room now or you won't see your baby alive." As I screamed and threw the phone in an attempt to rush out of the office, my boss lady (who happened to be a retired nurse) picked up the phone to find out what had happened. She drove me to the hospital, where I found my youngest son, who had already died. The only way I recognized him was from the shoes he was wearing.

The boys were playing softball in the front yard, while Linda (my terrific neighbor and friend) was acting as umpire. Erin, who would have been 4 years old in March, was pitching to #1 son when a car careened into our yard, hitting Erin and throwing him onto the roof of the garage. The car then sped off, but #2 son was able to write down the tag number. How, I will never know (neither does he!). Linda called for an ambulance which arrived in record time (or so I was told), Erin was extricated from the roof, and Linda and all the kids (hers and mine) were rounded up into her car and they followed the ambulance to the hospital.

Details become rather fuzzy here, but to the best of my recollection, the driver of the car was found and determined to have been a drunk 16-year old boy who had just gotten his driver's license one week before. I never did learn why he was drunk at that time of the day.

My boss put out a collection bowl at work for employees to contribute for my benefit - collected nearly one thousand dollars, but one of the employees stole it! Local Catholic church brought food and money the day I was making funeral arrangements. Just after my boss and I left from making funeral arrangements and were on our way to purchase clothes for my dead son in which to be buried, we were broad-sided on the passenger side by a pick-up truck. Three weeks later I came to in the hospital. Thankfully, my boss received only minor injuries.

I missed my son's funeral. I missed the fact that my parents had been threatened into coming to help (by the chief of police). I missed the fact that my homeowner's insurance paid for the funeral because my son was killed on our property. I missed knowing that the local radio station put out a plea for help from the community, which resulted in grandmothers, teenagers, church members, and police men and women being with my boys while I was hospitalized. I missed my son's funeral.

For three more weeks, I remained in the hospital in a full body cast - practically every bone in both my legs and 8 ribs were crushed. Plus, my lungs and spleen had been punctured, meaning I had surgery during the three weeks when I remained unconscious. When I went home, both legs were in casts from the bottom of my feet to ...., well use your imagination! I could not work, obviously. I caught up on mortgage payments and paid ahead for nearly a year, because the doctor told me it would be "a long while before I could work again." Made arrangements with the power and phone companies, and paid off the car. I was broke, but had weekly unemployment checks to count on...or so I thought. That proved to be false, because I had to appear IN PERSON to fill out the forms (which I was not able to do). And I didn't qualify for any food stamps or welfare aid because I owned property!

Because of the concern of the community, however, the freezer and cupboards were well stocked with food - seemed like enough to feed an army for a year! Not so, but it appeared that way to me at the time. The casts were cut off my legs in the middle of November, but I couldn't walk. Had to learn all over again, with the help of braces, crutches, canes, and lots and lots and lots of therapy. Medical bills never arrived and when I questioned "Why not," I was told "Don't worry, it's being taken care of." Telling me not to worry is like telling a yapping dog not to bark!

Christmas was getting ever closer and there was no money coming in. My kids were terrific, though. They allowed as how if I promised to not fix any pinto beans for Christmas dinner, they would glady settle for a meat loaf! We had a good laugh about that!

On Christmas Eve, I was really demoralized for my kids - even though they were putting on a brave front for me. It had just gotten dark outside and I'd finished our annual reading of "The Night Before Christmas" when I heard a noise from outside. With help from the 3 boys, we all hobbled to the front door and opened it. There wasn't a soul around, but there, on the front lawn was a fully-decorated Christmas tree, wrapped gifts by what looked to be in the hundreds, three huge baskets of fruit, six very large boxes of food (including all the fixings for Christmas dinner), and taped on the front door was an envelope. Through all the hoorays and yippees and floods of tears of joy, we managed to get everything inside the house - including the envelope, on which was printed "Do Not Open Until Christmas."

My boys and I had a wonderful time preparing a turkey, making cranberry sauce, baking pies, and of course, gingerbread men for the rest of the evening. Each time tears of gratitude would pour down my cheeks, my kids would rush over with tissue, wipe them away, and say "There REALLY is a Santa, Mom, just like you always said." In between crying and cooking, I called everyone I could think of to ask who was responsible for our wonderful Christmas, and nobody knew anything!

Christmas morning was absolutely wonderful bedlam! The boys all found new shoes, new clothes, sporting equipment, and scads of toys and games. I also received a new coat, gift certificates from local department stores, and a free haircut from a local beauty salon. Then, #1 son brought me the envelope to open. Inside was a Cashier's Check in the amount of $4,000.00 drawn on a local bank. I was still in the dark as to who was responsible for this wonderful Christmas and remained so for nearly a year. I finally discovered the Police Department had adopted us as their needy family for Christmas and went all out for us!

Grieving for the loss of my son was a long, slow process because I had to deal with my three boys who saw their brother get killed. Thankfully, communication between us had always been open and truthful about everything from the time each of them were able to comprehend, which really helped all of us get through the grieving process. The ensuing months after Christmas were calm and serene, occasionally disrupted by a nightmare or sudden tears by each of us out of the blue. As time went on, though, we adjusted to our loss and life became stable once again.

We all learned to let go of Erin - he'd only been lend-leased to us for a while.