The worst day of my life – Part 1

was March 1, 2010.

The day my beautiful husband was killed in a car accident.

He had been at the farm all weekend and had come home at 11pm Sunday night.  He was tired.  I was tired.  As usual, I had listened for the distinctive note of his car arriving home and I’d heard that and was drifting off to sleep.  He gave me a kiss and climbed into bed.  Both of us were asleep within minutes.

I started my teaching contract at a nearby high school on the Monday morning so was up early and was kicking him out of bed at 5:45am.

He wandered out and gave me a huge cuddle before telling me about what he’d done at the farm that weekend.
When the kids woke up, they spoke to him about what they’d done on the weekend (had swine flu needles) and Miss K showed him the drawings that she’d made, whilst Mr H was all about the torches and the needing of new batteries.

Next thing we were having our normal morning family cuddle and he was out the door to work with me not far behind getting the kids to their first day in before school care.

I remember feeling really apprehensive driving down the road but kept telling myself that I’d only work full-time for the first contract and then see if I could get part-time work so that the kids weren’t in childcare every morning and afternoon.  Now I wish I’d had more time to listen to that internal alarm bell……

I spent the morning getting to know my new students and teaching them a unit on forces and energy … based on car accidents. irony.

The kids were lovely for each class.

At 3pm, I’d offered to do a bus duty for another teacher and I was walking back into the building from duty when I got the first tangible indication that my life had effectively blown apart – the deputy had come to find me, muttering something about my kid’s school and the police needing me to drive the 20 minutes home to my mother’s house very carefully.

Of course I rang my kid’s school straight away and was put straight through to a police woman who urged me to drive straight home as carefully as  I  could.

I screamed “tell me my kids are OK“.

“Your kids are OK” she said.

Tell me what’s wrong” I said.

Drive straight home to your Mum’s house” she said.

So I try to call G and tell him that something bad has happened and to meet me at Mum’s but I get the front desk at his work instead of him and I’d rung his direct number… and they told me he couldn’t come to the phone right now and I was put on hold.  I hung up.

By this time I knew something was Very Wrong and I drove those 20 minutes home screaming “Please God let them be OK” the whole way home.

The police don’t pay social calls.  I knew this.

I knew someone was either seriously injured or dead.

If not my kids then my mother

or my father

or my husband.

I turned the corner into my parent’s street.
There was a police car parked out the front.

This is real I thought.

I remember thinking ” this is where I find out what has happened – am I ready to know?”

I remember pulling up in Mum’s driveway and two police officers came out to the car followed by my

Mum… in tears.

They told me there had been an accident and they thought G was involved.

Where is he I asked.

The policeman kept talking – unfortunately he appears to have died at the scene.

I screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed.   I don’t recall stopping.

I tried to hop back in the car.  I think I wanted to drive back to where this wasn’t real. To where I didn’t know what had happened.

Somebody led me up the stairs.  I sat down.  I kept screaming.  I wanted to vomit but couldn’t.

The policeman said that there was another thing he had to tell me…. they were only 99% sure it was G.  They weren’t able to tell from the photo on his driver’s license in his wallet.

That thought sunk in.

I screamed again and again.

The police chaplain was called.

Someone must have told me the kids were at a neighbour’s house.  I wanted to see them but I didn’t want to see them.  Then I would have to tell them.  How the hell do you tell a 7-year-old and a 5-year-old that their beloved Daddy has died?

…. to be continued when I stop crying…..

57 thoughts on “The worst day of my life – Part 1

  1. You’ve made me cry all over again. I cannot imagine the utter, utter grief. I am so sorry.

  2. Fiona says:

    {{{{{A, K & H}}}}}

  3. JENNY TALIA says:

    I am crying right with you. I can’t fathom the devastation you’ve been dealt.
    There aren’t the words to fully express how sorry I am for what you must be going through
    x

  4. Karen says:

    I prayed for you and your children today as I was driving about. Words cannot possibly describe how sorry I feel for your loss.

    Please know that you are held in my thoughts and prayers, friend.

  5. Trinity says:

    My heart is broken for you. I am so profoundly sorry for your family’s loss. So, so deeply sorry. Keeping you close in my thoughts…

  6. leechbabe says:

    Hugs and prayers sent through the tears.

  7. Miss Megan says:

    Saying a prayer for you and your family and sending many ((HUGS)) your way. Tears are streaming. . .I can’t fathom what you are going though. . .so very sorry for your loss.

  8. adele says:

    I found you through Liz. I even hesitate to leave a comment because there is nothing I can possibly say that can give you even an iota of comfort. I am so very sorry. But please know that there are people in this world who are thinking of you, and aching for you. Even if that really doesn’t help at all.

  9. Lea says:

    Here from Liz’s blog. I’m so, so very sorry for your loss. As the previous commenters said, I just wanted you to know that people were here and thinking of you. I wish you peace in this difficult time.

  10. Katie says:

    Also here from Liz’s blog, have no words to say but just wanted to leave something.

  11. sarah says:

    I came over from Liz’s blog.

    I am so very deeply sorry for your loss. I wept while reading this. I cannot imagine the pain and sorrow you and your children must be going through. I am just so, so sorry. You and your family will be in my thoughts.

    Hugs.

    Sarah

  12. Oh, dear God, no.
    What can I say to you? ‘Condolences’ sounds so cliched. There should be better words to convey sorrow and sympathy. I’m so shocked, and so very, very, very sorry, dear.

  13. God, and your MIL died the same day last year.
    No no no no no. Should not be happening.

  14. Chookie says:

    Wishing I was closer… Praying for you. There are no words.

  15. suchagoodegg says:

    Here from Liz’s blog. Oh, this breaks my heart. I am so sorry. There are no words. I am thinking of you.

  16. May says:

    I am so sorry. I am so very sorry.

  17. Jayne says:

    (((hugs)))) thoughts and prayers for you and the children, A xxx

  18. janine says:

    I too am here from Liz’s blog. I too am so so sorry. I don’t know what else to say but you’re in my thoughts xx

  19. JC says:

    Oh God, I am so so sorry!

  20. Missy Boo says:

    My heart is aching for you, and my eyes are pumping out tears. I have been thinking of you and the children xoxox

  21. Also here from Liz’s blog. I know there is nothing anyone can say to make this better. How I wish there was. Your family will be in my thoughts and prayers as you grieve this horrible loss. I am so so sorry.

  22. Bee Bee says:

    I just came over from Liz’s blog. I am so terribly sorry. I am unfortunately not too far away from being in your shoes. My hubby passed away unexpectedly on Feb. 23. It is horrible and I know that there isn’t anything that anyone can or will say that can ease your pain. I am almost a month out and I am still lost. Please know that you are in my prayers and even though we have never spoken before if you need someone to talk to and someone who will cry along with you, you can always email me and I will be there.

  23. Jenn says:

    I’m so so sorry… I don’t even know what else to say, and even that sounds empty.

  24. Elizabeth says:

    My thoughts and prayers are with you and your children.

  25. The Sheila says:

    Also here from Liz’s blog. I am so, so desperately sorry – my thoughts are with you.

  26. Vicky V says:

    I’m here from Liz’s blog too. My thoughts are with you. Sending love to you all x

  27. twangy says:

    Also coming from WFI – I am so shocked and sad for you. What an awful, terrible, devastating thing to happen.
    I am so sorry.

  28. Jodi says:

    Bloody hell. I can’t think of anything else to say, I really can’t.

  29. Louise says:

    So very very sorry to read this sad post. I have children the same age as yours and I can’t imagine what you and they are going through.

  30. Rhu says:

    xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  31. Lisa says:

    Also here from Liz’s blog. I am So So terribly sorry for your loss. You, your children and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.

  32. muser says:

    I have no words. I am so sorry. :(

  33. I am so sorry for the loss of a loved husband and father.

    You are all in my thoughts and prayers.

  34. beyond says:

    xx {{{A}}}

  35. Serendipity says:

    Also here from Liz, I’m so sorry for your loss, I know there is nothing anyone can say to make this time easier for you but my thoughts are with you and your familly.

  36. Lorna says:

    Gosh, my kids are 5 and 7 as well, this is just too awful, I am so so sorry to read this.

  37. debby says:

    No words, Corymbia. I have no words. But I have tears and they are all for you and your children. I am so, so, sorry.

  38. magikquilter says:

    Amanda….I am so deeply sorry.. sometimes it seems like we read so few blogs about happy marriages and families…yours was one that i treasured for your journey together as a family…and now this

    words fail me….. but my heart is with you and your children and your extended family
    kathleen
    xx

  39. Sarah says:

    I am so, so sorry. There is nothing more I can say other than you are in so many people’s thoughts and there is love coming from everywhere for you.

  40. April says:

    I am so sorry. My deepst condolences to you and your family.

  41. corymbia says:

    I sincerely thank each and every one of you for your kind thoughts, words and prayers – all have been gratefully received.
    Each day is hard … and to be honest, probably getting harder as the reality of this new life sinks in. I’m told this is normal.
    The kids and I are off to the GPs tomorrow and wil opefully emerge with a “mental health” referal in order to access the services of a psychologist / grief counsellor.
    Day by day….

  42. Angelhales says:

    I’ve just found your blog though a mention on someone elses and I am crying here with you. I cant imagine the pain and hurt you and the children and the family are going through, sending you prayers full of strength to help you through this difficult time.

  43. betty m says:

    Here from HFF to offer you all sympathy for your family’s terrible loss.

  44. thalia says:

    I am so very very sorry for your loss. Thinking of you and your children.

  45. L. says:

    I am here via HFF. I’d not read your blog but cannot imagine the extent of your grief. I am so sorry. So, so sorry. My prayers are with you, your children, and the rest of your family.

  46. Andie says:

    I am so very sorry for your unspeakably tragic loss. My thoughts are with your children and you. (here from HFF)

  47. B says:

    Here from another blog also. Couldn’t read and not let you know that I’m thinking of you and your children. There’s nothing any of us can say but I hope, one day, you’ll take comfort from the fact that people worldwide were thinking of you during this devastating time.

  48. HGething says:

    So so very sorry. Words feel so feeble in these situations.

  49. Marie says:

    Heartfelt condolences for your devastating loss. I wish you and your family strength and peace.

  50. jeanie says:

    Hugs to you Corymbia – lots and lots of thoughts and prayers for your whole familly.

  51. Oh man, I just now clicked over to your blog from a comment you’d left somewhere else that sounded interesting – hadn’t visited before. I am so sorry for your loss. Sending my thoughts your family’s way.

  52. Tally says:

    Overe here from HFF. This is my worst nightmare, coming true for you. My heart goes out to you and your family as you deal with your new reality.

  53. electriclady says:

    Here from HFF. I am so so sorry for your loss. Wishing you strength.

  54. Moira says:

    I am here from HFF … there are no words and I find my fingers hovering over the keys wishing I could convey something, anything to you.

    From someone out here to you, I am thinking of you and your children

    xxx

  55. Kelley says:

    It took me a long time to come here.

    It took me a long time to read this. back and forth, back and forth.

    It took me far too long to comment.

    Because what do you say? I don’t know what to say. But I need to say something so you know I am still here.

  56. Bush Babe says:

    Bravest damned post I ever read… now in floods and noticed the second is up. Going for another tissue box before I dive in.

    BB

  57. [...] make it go away.  It will never go away.  If I re-read the posts I wrote that document the worst day of my life, I am instantaneously plunged back into  absolute [...]

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