Big World. Small Planet. (Guest post by Tasha)

Note from Ester: This is a follow-up post to Michael's piece about his daughter.  

When we were in our mid-20s, my girlfriend posted this on her personal blog.  I had never met her father, and had no idea that he had spent a portion of his life - a portion of her life - in prison.  This post is an amazing insight into one family pulled into pieces by one event years ago, and how they found healing.  Thank you, Tasha, for sharing your story. 

"I was fourteen.  Whenever I spoke about the incident, I always thought I was younger than that.

I always started off saying that I was eleven. But I was fourteen.

It was April, 1997.

My grandpa, the only grandpa that’s ever been worth mentioning in my life, was in Louisville getting a bone marrow transplant in a last ditch effort to provide some treatment to his prostate cancer. My Grandma Reba, the only grandma that’s ever been worth mentioning in my life, was beside herself with grief.

She asked my Dad to dinner at Applebees attempting to smile, even momentarily. My Dad faked pleasant conversation and even mentioned that they should see a Reba McEntire concert together.  (My grandma is a ringer for Reba McEntire. Dead on.)  He said that everyone’s always saying how much she looks like her, but he’s never seen her perform.

As coincidence would have it, my grandma had been offered tickets earlier that day. (Yah! I know, right? That shit NEVER happens to me.) Reba was performing at the Rupp Arena in Lexington. And they went. My grandma frequented the Rupp Arena.  An avid hockey fan, my grandpa got the two of them season tickets to an inaugural hockey team called the Kentucky Thoroughblades. (Clever name, I know).  So, many of the people there recognized her and they were buying my dad free beer all night. Which, he drank of course. Who turns down free beer at a hockey game?? You almost have to get a second mortgage to afford the alcohol at sporting events.

Upon arriving back to my grandma’s house, she asked my dad to stay and he chose to head home. He stayed up a little later composing music, playing the guitar, and finished off the beer in his fridge.

5:30 a.m. the next morning my grandma was calling asking him to check the oil in her car because she wanted to head to Louisville and see my grandpa. My dad obliged, checked the oil, and when my grandma left at 6:00 a.m., he was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper.

When she arrived home and 6:00 p.m., there was a message on the answering machine that he was in jail, caused an automobile accident injuring three children and the accident was on the evening news.

My dad received a phone call from a friend asking him to help fix their car for $50. My dad agreed, wishing to use the money to visit my grandpa in the hospital.  Times back then for him were pretty, much the way time is for us now…financial duress. He got in the car, drove a few blocks, turned on Winchester Rd, missed a traffic light and slammed into the side of the vehicle.

Two women in the front seat, four kids in the back.  One with a broken leg. One suffered major injuries, the other, critical. My dad said he'll never forget convincing the people that stopped to help NOT to move the little boy in the back seat.  Head and back injuries were sustained in the crash and my father was worried about him being even MORE hurt. Turns out my dad’s insistency on leaving the boy where he was may have saved his life.  He was in a coma for quite some time after the accident.

…And why the need to tell you all this?

Well, my dad went to prison.  For nine years.  He’s never been able to attend anything of mine. Not my graduation, my wedding, the day my daughter was expelled from my uterus...and last Thursday, my brother, Donnie, graduated boot camp in Fort Jackson, SC. As usual, dad wasn’t going to be able to attend.  In his defense, he can’t request time off work and can’t risk losing his job to miss work....  BUT he received a phone call at 4:30 a.m. on Tuesday night saying they wouldn’t be working until Monday. …Right in time for him to jump in his car and head to SC and see my brother graduate.  Once again, that shit NEVER happens to me.

My mom, Grandma Angie and I flew in Wednesday night at midnight.  My Gma (Reba), my brother’s girlfriend, one of her friends, and my brother’s best-friend, Dwayne, arrived a couple hours before us, and my dad shortly after them.  We all made sure we stayed at the same hotel.  My brother’s friend Dustin was supposed to come but couldn’t make it.  So instead of all my brother’s friends sleeping in one room and my dad and grandma sleeping in one room, Dwayne and my dad had a room, and my Gma and the girls had a room.  I bunked with my mom and Grandma Angie.  …Who snores like a drunk sailor, btw.

Family Day was a blast. …For everyone but me. Tired, jet-lagged and pregnant isn’t a good combination. I spent some of the day sleeping in the car. Seeing my brother, Donnie, for the first time was incredibly emotional...Dwayne and I cried like babies. …Both of us. We then left to entertain ourselves. Dwayne and my Dad rode together, I was stuck with Mi madre and Grandma Angie and my Gma, the girls and my brother rode in another car. 

Donnie couldn’t leave base so we pretty much...shopped. An insane amount. I bought nothing.  My grandma Angie has diabetes, arthritis and asthma and wasn’t doing well with all the flying and walking.  Dwayne stayed behind with her most the day, lending an arm.  He’s been like a little brother to me for the last five years.  Dustin introduced my brother to him.  Dustin is the son of my grandma’s next door neighbor.  Ever since I can remember traveling to KY for Summer, he's always been our next door neighbor.

Then, as fate would have it, Donnie and Dwayne attended the same church youth group and have been best friends ever since.  I haven’t visited Kentucky since 2003 without spending my time with Donnie, Dwayne and my grandma.

By Friday morning I was so exhausted, I didn’t even make my brothers graduation! I’m awful, I know. However, after graduation, he was able to leave base, so everyone agreed to meet me at the hotel before they went out to eat. They took two cars. Seating arrangements changed.  My mom, dad, Grandma Angie and Donnie. My Gma and the rest of my bro's friends.  My mom and dad were commenting on how nice Dwayne is.  And he is! …Such a good kid.  He's family. My brother was saying Dwayne’s the best friend he's ever had, and he gets angry because people are always saying he’s slow. 

"He's not slow. He was just in a car accident awhile ago and has plates in his brain and spine.  He's been through a lot." 

My dad asked what Dwayne’s last name was. My brother told him.

Time stopped.

My dad said, "Donnie. Dwayne ******** is the kid I hit."

"No. No it isn’t, Dad. Can’t be."

"I’ll never forget that name, Donnie.  I prayed and prayed that he would survive the accident. Every day."

My brother ran to ask Dwayne when his accident was. It was the same day. Same road. Same car.

My dad approached Dwayne tentatively. Said, "Im sorry to have to tell you this son, but I’m the one that hit you."

Dwayne took a step back.

How the hell do you tell someone what that’s like? How can I even begin to tell you how agonizing it was? It’s inexplicable. …Just to think that he’s been in our life for six years. RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF US - becoming family - and we never knew.  …Never even thought for a second. It’s a miracle.

I wish I could describe what everyone felt at that moment, but I wasn’t there. I was home sick. And even if I had been there, I don’t think it would be possible.

And the unexpected...he forgave my dad. There were a lot of things in the middle of him hearing it, and accepting it, but after some time... He said things along the lines of:

"I forgive you but I’ll never tell my mother. She hates you."

"Your son and daughter have become a brother and sister to me. They’re family. If it had been any other circumstances..."

"God knew eleven years ago that this day would happen."

They spent two days and two nights together. Riding around. Sleeping in the same room.  Talking about my dad’s success in NOT drinking.  He has a sponsor.  Six years alcohol free.  Neither of them mentioned the accident during all the things they spoke about. Ironically.  The one thing that would have related them was never brought up.  I doubt my dad proudly boasts of that moment and would understand that he doesn’t mention it to "just anyone."  I’m sure that Dwayne has pushed it out of his memory as much as possible.  It was half his life ago. Still, the coincidences are astronomical.

And my dad and Dwayne continued to ride around together the rest of the day. And still shared a room that night. Dwayne said for some reason, it brought him closer to my dad.

If Dustin had been able to come, they would have never slept in the same room and had the intimate, private talks they did.  They wouldn’t have rode around together for two days straight.

If my Dad had to work, he would have never made it.

If I hadn’t been sick Friday morning, the seating arrangements would have never been changed around and my dad wouldn’t have thought to ask Dwayne’s last name.

And most ironic, the only people that were affected by the accident that were NOT there was Dwayne’s family.  Every single person in our lives that was directly affected by this trauma was right there.

If that’s not a miracle, I don’t know what is.

And when the goose-bumps go away; Id like someone to say SOMETHING. I mean, this isn’t just a blog. This is half my life at peace now. This is life at peace for almost all of us now. What a perfect time for Thanksgiving."