Background
This is my story. I intend to leave these chapters for my grandchildren. They should know about Grammy's life, and the roots of the family. History should never be ignored.
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In 1989, my family suffered a tragedy. It affected my brother the most, but there was enough pain for my mother, sister, and me. The incident affected the way I brought up my own children, and seeds of doubt about God were planted in my brother's head.
If anyone asked him, he would have to admit he wasn't the best husband. He probably wasn't even that great of a man, but he knew in his very soul, he was a good father. He had been blessed with two boys, and he loved them with every fiber of his being. Yes, John was a good Dad to his sons despite everything else.
His older son, Jack, was a sophomore in high school, and the younger son, Darrell, was in the fifth grade. While Jack excelled at school, Darrell just got average grades. Jack was planning to get into the Air Force Academy and Darrell figured he would be lucky to get a job driving a garbage truck. They were both happy, though. Friends, sports, and school took up their weekdays, and there was family camping, NASCAR, and visiting relatives to fill the weekends.
It was early in November that Darrell brought home the brochure and permission slip. "Mom, Dad…look! There's gonna be a ski trip from school. They're gonna take us on a big bus up to the Poconos. We leave at like six in the morning, before it's even light! Can I go, Mom? Can I go, Dad?"
Big brown eyes peered up at this Dad. "After I learn to ski, then you and I can go skiing sometime. It would be just you and me because Mom and Jack don't know how to ski, right Dad?"
"What do you think, John?" Maureen looked over at John. She was a little worried about the money, but she knew in her heart they could afford it. But still, there was a chill in her heart. She ignored it – she seemed always worried about something.
"Darrell, why don't you let Mom and I talk about this and we will give you an answer tomorrow, okay buddy?"
Darrell looked down at the floor and agreed to the terms. He didn't like it. Like most boys, he wanted an answer right now. But, he knew better than to argue. He and Jack rarely won an argument, and they usually lost something more than they bargained for, so he simply left the room.
John and Maureen discussed the trip and decided Darrell could go. They sent in the money and the permission slip and started to put together the equipment Darrell would need. Maureen and Darrell shopped for boots, warm clothes, and a hat and gloves. John took Darrell to the ski shop and found skis that were the right length for his son.
A big red circle graced the day of the trip on the calendar. Every morning, Darrell would count how many days were left. "Look Mom. There's only two more days. I can't wait! Thank you so much for letting me go." He looked up at his mother with love. As she considered his face, her breath caught in her throat. He was simply a beautiful boy.
On the morning of the trip, alarms rang in both the master and Darrell's bedroom. Darrell sprang from his bed and rushed to the bathroom. He jumped in the shower and started singing at the top of his lungs. John and Maureen moved a bit slower, but they smiled at their son's jubilant mood.
Saying goodbye at the bus was hectic. Forty other children and their parents were shuffling in the cold parking lot. When the chaperones called for the children to line up, they carefully checked in each child and their gear. John and Maureen stayed until the bus pulled off into the darkness. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon.
Since Darrell was gone for the day, Maureen decided to thoroughly clean his room and she did her usual Saturday chores like laundry and tidying up the kitchen. John and Jack were working on the car they were rebuilding for Jack to use when he got his license. The day had turned into a bright and clear winter day.
The phone rang around twelve-thirty in the afternoon. Maureen was in the basement and John was in the kitchen having some lunch. Leaning his chair back from the table to the wall phone, he grabbed the receiver and brought it up to his ear, "Hello."
"Is this the Thomas residence?" asked a woman's voice.
"Yes, this is the Thomas residence."
"May I please speak to either John or Maureen?"
"Yes, this is John. How can I help you?"
"I'm sorry Mr. Thomas, but there's been an accident."
John leaned forward in his chair and the front legs hit the floor. "What kind of accident? Who's hurt?"
"This is Doctor Nelson at the Allentown General Hospital. Your son, Darrell, was brought here about fifteen minutes ago…"
"What? Why? Is he okay? I can be there in about two and a half hours. Is he asking for us?"
As he asked the string of questions, Maureen came up the cellar steps. She rushed into the kitchen with a frightened look.
Holding up a hand to stop her questions, John gave all his attention to the doctor on the other end of the phone.
"He is here and it would be a good idea if you and your wife get here as soon as possible. Right now, I need your permission to operate. There's some swelling on his brain and we need to alleviate it."
John took a deep breath as he tried to digest what the doctor just said. "Yes, ma'am. We are on our way. Do whatever needs to be done."
Hanging up the phone, John turned to Maureen's horrified face and realized he would have to tell her this awful news. "Honey, there's been an accident and Darrell is in the hospital in Allentown. They want us to come right away."
Jack joined them as they got into the truck and started the drive toward the mountains. No one was talking; they didn't want to voice the questions in their head.
The hole in John's heart started out as a tiny pinhole when he saw Darrell lying in the hospital bed. There were so many tubes coming in and out, he lost count. The huge bandage on top of his head was so white, but so was Darrell. The blackened eyes told their own story.
Growing bigger, the hole throbbed as John and Maureen heard the story from one of the chaperones. It seemed that Darrell was skiing just fine, and then took a jump over what he thought was a mogul, but instead, it was the side of the mountain. Darrell flew about one hundred feet and landed on his head. The rescue unit was there in minutes and rushed him to the hospital. He hadn't regained consciousness.
When Doctor Nelson came out to see them after the surgery, she let them know they had put him in a medically induced coma. In that way, there wouldn't be any pain if he did start to wake up. They needed to get the swelling in his brain down before anything else. She told them she would be back as soon as she knew something else.
Hours passed while they sat in his room. The machines continued to beep, wheeze, and whir. The clock on the wall seemed to be stopped at times, and then it would speed up at others. John held his breath, waiting for his son to wake up so everything could get back to normal.
The doctor checked in rarely, but the nurses were in and out of the room. Darrell's vitals were checked and recorded. He never moved or made a sound. John, Jack, and Maureen just sat and watched him.
A lady with a clipboard came into the room and asked for John and Maureen. The chaperone quietly excused himself. "We need to talk about organ donation. I'm sure that in the face of your tragedy, you would want to help someone else."
John and Maureen looked at each other; stunned beyond belief. Why had no one told them they were looking at a hopeless situation? Was their little boy brain-dead?
Doctor Nelson came into the room and she was clearly embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I was tied up and didn't get a chance to talk to you first." Turning to the lady, she asked, "Can you give us a moment?"
"I'm so sorry, but we've done all we can for Darrell. Despite the surgery, there is no brain activity. We can wait a few days to see if he will wake up, but there is zero to little chance that will happen. With your permission, we would like to start weaning him off the oxygen and machines. Those are the things that are keeping him alive."
Tears streamed down John's face as the hole expanded to the size of a dime. He could barely breathe, but he felt Maureen squeeze his hand, and he gently told the doctor, "Let him go. We don't want to keep him here. And, we will donate any of his organs that someone needs. It's something we talked about as a family around the dinner table. It's what he would want."
The hole continued to grow as they made the arrangements to get Darrell's body back to their hometown. Making the funeral arrangements required every bit of his patience and he was in constant agony. Somehow, he made it through the service, and all the people at the house.
Finally, he had some time to himself. He took a deep breath and felt the pain in his chest. He acknowledged the missing piece of himself. He accepted the hole in his heart as he cried for his son.
Twenty-eight years later I still find it hard to believe this happened. Darrell was one of those little boys you couldn't help but love. He drew wonderful pictures, and made funny jokes. He was short; he was loved by many friends. The church was full at the mass said in his honor, and friends and family came from all over the state of New Jersey.
My brother and his wife, Maureen, got a divorce just one year after Darrell's death. My brother acknowledges a 'higher power,' but refuses to believe in a God that could allow this to happen. After a few years of sobriety while Darrell was alive, he started drinking again. He still talks about Darrell and wonders what kind of a man he would be today. He is a broken man with a huge hole in his heart.
Author Notes
picture is the school picture taken of Darrell just eight weeks before the accident.
My brother changed in so many fundamental ways after Darrell's death. In some ways, he became more kind and more loving. He never took anything for granted. When he started drinking again, my heart hurt, but I know he had to find his own way to cope with the pain.
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