That room. That horrible room just off the Emergency Room Entrance is where a doctor rather matter-of-factly informed me that seventeen-year-old Joseph died in a single-vehicle accident. I waited there alone for what seemed an eternity. Finally, my husband arrived after racing to the crash site, hoping to find and tend to our son.
We embraced. We sobbed. We hyperventilated. I became violently ill.
In that room, we later broke the devastating news to two younger brothers that young boys should never have to hear.
I suspect I will always hate that room.
While there, two state troopers entered the room. The officers politely removed their hats and offered sympathy. As tears welled in his eyes, the taller of the two choked out words, assuring us that our son was wearing his seatbelt and was not speeding. I did not doubt either. Joseph was the most responsible person I knew.
So many irresponsible people live to an old age—drunk drivers, drug dealers, murderers, human traffickers, and child abusers. Yet, my loyal, reliable, and very mature son with a promising future was dead. God’s plan is a mystery. I am learning to accept the mystery and to trust Him in the dark.
One of the officers handed me an envelope marked “Valuables” that contained the contents of Joseph’s pockets that February day.
The contents were listed one by one: “One Ten Dollar Bill ($10), One Five Dollar Bill ($5), Five One Dollar Bills ($5), One Timex —Digital w/Plastic Band.” Reading the hollow last line sent my mind into a tailspin. “Total Cash $20. Nothing Follows.”
Nothing followed. That was the end of my son. Why was it worded so carelessly, so impersonally? I don’t understand. Tears streamed down my face again. Is it possible to cry oneself empty? As if being notified that my son was dead wasn’t tormenting enough, that short sentence sucker-punched me again.
A personal note …
Friend,
Have you received the contents of a loved one’s pockets in an envelope? Was your world blown to bits while you sat in a strange room in a hospital? Have you been stung by death?
Know that I sit with you, weep with you, and pray for you. More importantly, know that God is closer than your own skin.
You are not alone.
Shelley