From Four....and Back Again

There are many significant dates in history that people often refer to and say "I'll never forget where I was when."  For me, for us, that day is March 2, 2015.  It was a Monday, gray overcast skies.  Frigid, highs in the mid 20's with freeze/ice warnings the night before. I woke up earlier then usual, being 9 months pregnant with our third baby (a girl) that was happening a lot, it was around 6:30 a.m.  Dave was in the kitchen heating up his lunch for work that day, Colton 5, our soon to be middle child; sleepily made his way to join me in the living room.  He laid on the couch across from me, where I rested on the recliner.  Kamryn 7, our eldest was still tucked in her bed asleep.  Dave walked down the hall to whisper a goodbye and "I Love You" to her; as he did every morning.  Before he left for the day he laid a blanket on Colton, gave him a kiss, told him he loved him.  Finally he moved on to me, kissing my forehead, telling me he loved me; I told him to be careful.  It was 6:41 a.m., I heard him start his truck and wait a few minutes to let it warm up; and then he drove away... for the very last time.  Sometime around 7:00 I heard a slew of sirens, not the norm around here for that time of the morning.  I had an odd feeling and text Dave making sure he was OK.  I'd done that a few other times in the past, when the rare siren blare could be heard at that time.  After a few minutes I still hadn't herd back, not totally uncommon since his job often had them getting that days orders around those times; and I knew he couldn't answer me until after.  About 10 minutes later I got an odd text, offering prayers and help with the kids. The person who sent it to me didn't know that I had no idea what had occurred. Dave's truck had slid on a huge patch of black ice, it was a rear wheel drive 2002 Ford Ranger, no side airbags.  The driver door slammed into the only tree within hundreds of yards on the opposite side of the road. After a muddle of poor communication with a few people, I learned he was the reason for those sirens. I never imagined at that moment it would end the way it has. After a wait for a babysitter for the older two, and a 30 minute ride to the hospital Dave ultimately ended up at; I knew. It is never a good sign when there is a man at the door waiting for your arrival.  I didn't even have to give him my name.  They take you to the "family room", I couldn't even go in; I already knew. I can't even begin to describe the events that happened next, honestly because I don't remember much.  I sat with him for about 2 hours, it was some of the purest; yet oddest two hours of my life.  I thought a million thoughts in such a short time. I thought of the past, I thought of the future, mostly I thought of the two amazing people at home that I was now charged with sharing this horrific information with.  I stopped before going home to talk to the amazing guidance counselor at my daughter's school.  There is never a right or wrong when something like this occurs, but I wanted this to scar them in the most minimal way possible; if that is even a possibility.  I sat them on my bed, and I said it: "Daddy died, he isn't going to be coming home." Again, a blur.  They cried, yelled, sobbed; so did I.  It's a pain deeper then even what I was already feeling, which doesn't seem imaginable.  This is an unwanted journey, a story that I wish I didn't have the opportunity to tell. One week from today our now family of three, will go back again to four; as Kendall Mae joins our family.  There is so much change and heart ache, love and excitement all in only 23 short days.  I may be the only one to ever read these words, but I want to share them; even if only with myself.  I want to one day be able to show the details, the memories of years prior to and far past March 2, 2015; with our children.  For anyone else taking this unwanted journey with us, I pray it is only as a spectator, following our new path.  That in your life, you have not suffering the same fate. http://www.pressofatlanticcity.com/obituaries/thomas-david-m/article_4b43bf31-c556-538a-8f1b-ad0ba55e0c9b.html