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An Unexpected Chance at Forgiveness

I came to the door, fumbled for my keys, unlocked it and entered. I saw my son reclining on the couch, watching the news.

“What’s new since I left?”

“Nothing new, just talking about some robberies and the flu season. I think the news can be a waste of time. Why can’t there be anything interesting?” He chuckled.

“That’s because they do not report any good news or interesting news. That kind of news is for the eleven o’clock hour I guess.” I went into the closet by the entrance door and hung up my coat. “How was school today Jeff?”

“One of my friends got sick, had to sit out our basketball game. Oh, we have a test next Tuesday, other than that, nothing new.”

“Do you know how your friend is now? By the way, which friend is it?”

“It’s Andrew, but I called him five minutes ago, he’s much better.”

“Good, glad to hear.” I walked into the kitchen and rummaged through the refrigerator. I took a deep sigh. “We’re out of bread. Can you quickly drive over to the store and get some bread, eggs, and milk? We’ll need them for tonight. Unless you don’t want cookies for dessert tonight or French toast for the morning.”

“Sure mom, I’ll do that. What kind of bread?”

I didn’t hear him. He repeated his question. “Oh, um, whatever you want I can have, but if you want the French toast, I suggest you get white.”

“Right, I’ll get white and some cinnamon and raisin for the toast.”

Jeff jumped up, picked up the car keys from the table and ran off to the car. He had gotten his license a year ago. No, make that a year and half. He ran off so quickly, he forgot to close the door. I went to close it and as I did, Jeff waved at me from the car. I smiled and waved back.

Jeff was seventeen in his junior year of high-school, athletically built, short cropped brownish hair and few facial blemishes. He had joined the basketball team for the first time last year and impressed the coach. So, he was asked to join the team again this year and he gladly agreed. I had always encouraged him with everything he did in and out of school. He had never gotten into trouble; the closest time being when he was in third grade, he tried to play baseball inside and broke two glasses. But nothing has happened since then. With his good grades, he made at least second honors and sometimes first honors every year at school.

I turned on the TV to the science channel. I had always been fascinated by science and actually wanted to be a chemist or engineer when I was young, but it did not work out and now I am an interior designer.

I waited for him for about twenty minutes before I called him. Usually it took him about ten minutes to get to the store, get everything and get back. It had been twenty and I was worried. I remembered he always had his cell and called him on that. It rang and rang; no answer. I became even more worried. I couldn’t think of what could have happened. I finally got into my SUV and drove off to the store, hoping to find him talking to some of his friends. I hoped that in talking to them, he had not noticed his cell going off. As I was driving, I saw at the second to last intersection before the store, that a large van had smashed into a car head-on. I called the police and reported it as I drove into the store parking lot. As I hung up, I went into the store and looked for Jeff. I could not find him and called his cell again. It rang and rang, but this time, someone answered, but it was not Jeff.

“Hello?” said the man with a deep scratchy voice.

“Who is this?” I asked, nearly at the point of hysteria.

“I was standing by an accident on 1st and Porter Lane, heard the phone go off-” I shut out whatever else he had to say.

“No, no, NO! This can’t be happening,” I said to myself, “this just cannot be happening.” I took a deep breath, and calmed down. Getting myself together I drove off to the sight of the accident. I saw something there that I had not seen before. No, it was not the crowd, but a license plate, bent horribly out of shape. I got out of my car and ran to look at it. I read it, “JARHEAD”. It was Jeff’s favorite movie and he had decided to put it on his license plate. I sat down on the pavement staring at the plate and began to sob.

“No! This can’t be!” I said in-between sobs, “I-“

“Ma’am, are you alright?” A voice said from behind.

“Does it look it?” I replied with indignation. I did not care to look back.

“”I’m sorry to have offended you ma’am, but seeing as how you are sitting in the middle of the street, maybe you might have-“

“I don’t need your help!” I screamed. “Who are you anyway?”

“I am Officer Kilgore; I came here on the account of a reported accident. I have already called the paramedics, and they are on their way.”

“I turned around and looked at him, tears flowing from my eyes, “My son was in the Acura, do you know how he is?”

“I do not. I’m sorry, but as soon as I get information, I will let you know first.”

“Thank you officer.” I continued sobbing.

Officer Kilgore walked off in the direction of his cruiser. I finally got up, with the plate in my hand, and walked over to the accident. When I reached it, I was petrified by the sight of twisted metal and random debris scattered about. A large van had totaled Jeff’s Acura, and the front was torn completely off. As I was looking on, the sirens of ambulances were heard coming. I looked over as I saw the ambulances come to a screeching halt. I ran over to the first paramedic I saw “My son is in there! I want you to tell me how he is and if you can get him out!” The paramedic only nodded as he rushed to the mangled metal.

Shouts of confusion and order rung through the quiet neighborhood. I finally had to take a rest on the curb. Then Officer Kilgore came over to me and sat on the curb beside me. “Mrs. Rawlings?”

I looked up from my hands “Yes?” He had one of the saddest looks on his face.

“I am sorry, but your son is dead. He was killed instantly, but he did not suffer. The van hit his car head on. We took out the other driver; he has a concussion but does not have serious injuries. I think that this may have been a drunk-driving accident.”

“Accident!” An accident! Huh! My son is dead; do you think that is an accident?” I screamed. I got up from the curb and lost it. “How can you saw that a loss of life is an accident? I cannot believe you police are trained to say ‘an accident’ when that is one of the most insulting things you can say to a mother who has just lost a child!” Kilgore could not respond. I paced frantically as if I wanted to say something more but could not reach for the words.

“I’m very sorry.” Office Kilgore said as he got up and walked over to the diminishing crowd. I stood there for some time before I heard the ambulances get ready to leave.

Part two; three years later

We went to a hotel in Miami for two weeks, to relax from the hectic work of the spring redecorating season. It was not off-season in Florida, so we got a good price on a package deal; air-fare, car, and a hotel room. My husband Arthur had a major in science and was doing research for Lockheed Martin. He was very athletic and played basketball with Jeff. He was about 5’ 11” and had longish, parted, wavy black hair to die for. We arrived in Miami just after four’ o’clock. We picked up your car and went to the hotel where we quickly checked in and were ushered to out room. “What a beautiful view, the beach, the crystal ocean, how much better can it be?” Arthur said as we looked out from our fourth story balcony.

I laughed and looked out. The beach was white sand, the water a turquoise, and further out a deep majestic blue. “Why don’t we head out before the sun goes down and just look around town?”

“Sure, I’d be glad to.” Arthur said with a smile. We promptly unpacked and changed into cooler shorts and shirts. We left a little after four thirty and were enveloped in the beauty of the city when I saw a frightening sight. I stopped abruptly.

“What is it?” Arthur asked, looking at me.

I could only point. There was a three car accident in the middle of the road. “Come on, let’s not go this way.” Arthur said as he turned me around looking at the scene.

We continued walking along the main streets and found little shops to buy mementos and even tried a few cafes. But I could not get the image of the car wreck out of my mind. As we returned to the hotel, I said to Arthur “I’m going to just look around a bit, see what this hotel has to offer.” Arthur nodded.

“I’ll wait for you in the room.” We parted and went our ways.

I went off into the vast corridors of the hotel. I went to the spa, the pool, the indoor tennis courts, and even went to look at all the bars and restaurants. I went past casinos and ballrooms. I was about to go back up to the room, when I saw a sign outside one of the meeting rooms. The sign read “M.A.D.D. Mothers Against Drunk Driving Meeting Tonight, Ballroom F 8:00” I thought I should go to it. I immediately left for the room.

When we got to the room, Arthur asked me what I seen, I said “There is so much to do here; I do not think we can do everything!”

“Why don’t we start by having some dinner, shall we?”

I agreed. the dinner seem to go by in a blur, I barely remembered anything. As we were heading back to the room I looked at my watch, seven fifty, perfect. I said to Arthur “I am going to be in Ballroom F for a while; I’ll be back around nine o’clock. Okay?” Arthur seemed too tired to notice. He just nodded and yawned.

I went to the ballroom and found a seat. I looked around and saw many couples; probably around 125 people were there. At that point, I felt like I should have brought Arthur with me, but as soon as I sat down, the meeting began. It was announced that the theme of the meeting was forgiveness and that forgiveness was necessary in order to cope with the tragic and sudden loss of a loved one. The speaker went on to say that public forgiveness can have a therapeutic effect on a person’s mental state. At around eight fifty, the speaker invited those of us who had yet to forgive to come up and talk about our personal experience. I did not know whether or not to do it, but I stood up and went straight for the podium. I looked at the many pairs of eyes staring at me and felt extremely uncomfortable and began backing down. But something made me practically jump back to the podium and begin speaking.

“I came here to have an enjoyable vacation. Now, I begin with something I should have done three years ago. it was then that my son, Jeff, was killed in a terrible car crash in which the other driver was drunk. I had asked my son to go to the grocery store to get a few things. But he never returned and I went looking for him. When I found him, his car was totaled. he was killed instantly, with glass shards, big as steak knives entered his skull and neck. The only way I could verify it was my son was by his birth marks and his clothing. The drunken drive had two broken arms, a stress fracture in his spine, and severe bruising on his chest and face. He lived. I was angry that he lived and Jeff died. But today I am glad that he lived, so now I can forgive him publicly. I do not condone his actions or his drunk driving, but as it was pointed out earlier in the meeting it is necessary to forgive and move on. Also, I needed to forgive myself for a tragedy which might have been prevented had I gone to the store, not him. I have been suffering for three years, yearning for that one thing that would end my pain, and this is forgiveness, and I thank you for giving me this chance to forgive myself as well.”

I stepped down from the podium as people began to applaud. I turned to say thank you but could not be heard over the applause. I started to cry. It was not the speech, not the emotion, but in the back of the room, my husband stood smiling and applauding with the rest. I walked over to him and we embraced and he said “Thank you for doing this, and thank you for finally forgiving yourself, Jeff would have wanted it this way so we can go on, living in his memory.”

“The let us.” I smiled as tears welled up in my eyes.