How to write about your worst nightmare

And live through it

This was not the post I had planned for this week.

I’m writing this now because a beautiful girl was shot in her driveway this week, only 22 years old and just beginning her life. Family friends from my kids’ elementary school days, now she’s left us.

Life is so unkind

You don’t remember the month following this death. You’re numb. Not sure how you function and return to work. One day you snap out of it, and it’s like you woke from a nightmare. Only you accept that it’s real. Some co-workers stop talking to you, not sure what to say to you. So, they just avoid you.

Living through our own nightmare

April 6, 2017, my five-year-old Great-nephew died, by the hands of his own father.

The Back Story

Tuesday evening, my husband and I were shopping, and I got a call from my sister.

“I have bad news.”

My mind races, and I immediately jump to the conclusion my great-niece’s health turned for the worse. Born with Cystic Fibrosis, she was in a children’s hospital again with pneumonia.

“Robert attacked Gabe.”

My mind went blank. Trying to find the words to console my sister but left completely disoriented to understand what happened.

She was at the police station, with her daughter waiting for the ok to go to the hospital 127 miles north where Gabe had been airlifted to.

About 11:00 p.m., my sister called from the hospital and said,

“Trisha, it's bad.”

I told her I was on my way, driving 127 miles south.

I walked into the room with my sister. He was on full life support. I’ve never seen so many tubes and wires.

Both children at the same hospital, on different floors. I went to visit Sara, not telling her why I was there nor what had happened to her little brother.

I made the trip from room to room, floor to floor. I was disoriented from lack of sleep and stress. One time getting off the elevator I couldn’t remember which floor I was getting off at, which child to see.

The room beside Gabe’s saw a flurry of activity as the young child was coming out of a coma. I watched her room and the hallway outside filled with family and medical professionals.

The atmosphere was electrifying and drew me into the moment. There must have been over thirty people or more and the excitement was a wonderful distraction.

Later, those people swarmed around Gabe’s room. His airways were obstructed, and I watched the Chief of staff of the pediatric ICU offer to take over from his doctor. The chief of staff slightly smiled and nodded his approval as the doctor shook his head no- he’d stay bagging him while they brought in an x-ray technician.

We all left the room and returned as they found the obstruction and soon his vitals improved. I watched the swarm of people disperse as the immediate emergency subsided.

His oldest sister was brought to see him, and it was difficult. A child herself, with a younger sister upstairs and her brother in ICU.

We told Sara later that day and they showed her his picture from the ICU. I suggested that we get her happy pictures of Gabe to put in her room so that she didn’t fixate on the other picture.

Early Thursday morning April 6, around 3:00 a.m., the nurse pulled the curtains closed to his room. It was such a touching gesture to give us this privacy. We watched his vital signs continuing to fail.

“The room is quiet now. The beeping stopped and a peace came over the room. The inner turmoil subsided, and he let go.” (Notes I wrote on my phone)

Gabriel died quietly on his own, sparing his mother from making the decision to take him off life support.

The hospital staff guided us, with support and counselors to return to Sara’s room and tell her that her brother died during the night.

She reached down to the foot of the bed and drew a blanket up over her head and covered herself from the world.

I wanted to do the same thing.

You don’t remember the month following this death. You’re numb. Not sure how you function and return to work. One day you snap out of it, and its like you woke from a nightmare. Only you accept that it’s real. Some co-workers stop talking to you, not sure what to say to you. So, they just avoid you.

So here we are now, experiencing another young life stolen from us. The details of this senseless murder will come out later from the news media. But the truth of the details unfolds in the sentencing hearing.

Two years later, the sheriff askes you repeatedly if you have anything sharp on you, as you wait to enter the court room. He looks at your brother- in- law in the eye and repeats himself. One room, multiple police officers watching you.

You listen to the intake video. Tear stained pages of your journal captures the details. You listen to how he killed his son. You listen to why he killed his son.

The prosecutor’s statements said he sacrificed his child for himself. Planned out, and the opportunity arose one day.

One person’s actions rippled across Gabe’s entire tribe, altered all your lives and changed forever.

You can’t find any sense in this, there isn’t any. Listening to the details, you learn how. But does it change anything? You still don’t have the answers, even though you heard the how and the why.

And you never will. You can’t get inside someone else’s head. There’s no rational reason to justify this, there just isn’t.

The pain from this is always there, but it changes over time. You’re a little more thoughtful, grateful for your life. You’re appreciative of the people you have in your life, and your family.

When you think of Gabe you smile instead of cry.

You heal on your own timeframe, not someone else’s. Something you see might make you cry and think of him. Other things make you stop and smile.

Remember the Past, but be in the Present

You don’t have the answers, and you probably never will. You have your life and only this one. Be kind to people, be generous and understanding.

Life may not be fair, but you can be.

Show people, you appreciate them. Buy someone a coffee, open a door for someone who needs help. Smile, it will cheer you both up.