Unfortunately, sleep is evading me as thoughts continue to race through my mind.
Tonight my thoughts traveled back to September 5, 2007. The day of my father's funeral.
It's strange--the memories seem so distant, but I can picture certain parts of that day as if it all happened yesterday. The one thing that was brought to my mind tonight was what happened on the way to my father's burial. Some of you may already know this story, but I am going to share it anyways. Maybe if I type out my thoughts, I will be able to find some sleep :) Also, please forgive me for any grammatical errors--at this time of day, I don't place grammar as a high priority. My dear friend, Kimberly, would support me in this stance, and I hope the rest of you will, too. haha.
So...back to the story...
My father's funeral service was held at my church, which is about 20-some miles from where the cemetery is. After the funeral service, we all loaded up in our vehicles to drive to the burial. Though my mother was a little apprehensive about me driving (apparently she thought that my emotional state was not stable, though I hadn't cried yet that day), she finally caved and let me drive my car to the cemetery.
We hadn't made it even 5 miles from the church when I saw something in my rear-view mirror that made my heart sink--two vehicles colliding. At that moment, time literally seemed to slow. My mind quickly processed what was happening as I saw pieces of debris flying in the air. I slammed on the breaks and yelled, "Jami got into an accident!" My mom didn't even have time to respond before I jumped out of the car and started running toward the wreckage. My heart was pounding. What if she's dead? I can't handle another death, I thought to myself. Horrendous cries of the child that was in the other vehicle pierced my ears. As I came closer to my friend's vehicle, I was trying to prepare myself for what could be a very gruesome sight. I held my breath. I let out a deep sigh of relief when I saw that my friend, who had been such an amazing support after my father's death, was alive. She got out of her car, a little dazed and in shock, but she was alive. I can't even begin to explain the whirlwind of emotions I was experiencing in these moments.
Though I knew that I had to go to my father's burial, I didn't want to leave my friend's side. After her assuring me numerous times that she was "okay," I had to be almost dragged from her side. Needless to say, we were late for the burial, but I'm sure my daddy didn't mind. I was just thankful that I didn't lose another person from my life that day. Despite the degree of severity of the wreck, Jami walked away with nothing to show but some bruises and soreness. Praise the Lord.
As I look back on this day, I sometimes think, I can't believe that actually happened.
Ah, the clock now reads 2:45am. Goodnight, world.
p.s. Tune in soon for part 2 of this story :)
