My Son Died Instantly In The Same Crash I Survived

Hi. I'm a mom and my 9 year-old son and I were in a multi-car rollover accident 11/7/11.

We were just driving along, following my husband who hauls oversize loads. I drive as his rear escort car and our son, Andrew, attended online school.

At the time of the accident, Andrew was logged onto his Monday math class, waiting for his teacher to log on. My husband, ahead of us, was hauling a generator for a wind mill; the load was very wide and he was unable to see me. However, we did have communication by CB radio. My vehicle had an amber lightbar on top, red flags, and "Oversize Load" banners attached to the front and back. Ahead of my husband's truck were two other escort vehicles, each with the same oversize requirements. We were traveling north on a two-lane road.

I never saw the small Ford Ranger pick-up truck that struck my vehicle on the driver side. Unconscious, my vehicle spun into the southbound lane, and then was struck on the passenger side by a full-size Ford F-250 pick-up truck, killing Andrew instantly.

I regained consciousness and saw Andrew sitting really close to me. Figuring he was unconsciousas as I had been, I touched his hair, stroking it and telling him "everything is going to be fine."  When he didn'trespond to me, I thought, of course he can't hear me...he's unconscious...and that was okay. He wouldn't panic. I didn't know where my left arm was, and my head was through the sunroof. I was unaware we had flipped and rolled down a hill, coming to rest on the passenger side of the vehicle.

My orientation off, I again touched Andrew with my right hand, on his right shoulder, then his left. Satisfied that he looked and felt "okay," I began answering a man's voice, he was asking me questions, such as, "what's your name? Do you know where you are?" It was very bright and very loud...lots of voices, a helicopter, and the sounds of what was my vehicle being pryed open.  I was told "hold still, this might hurt," not knowing if it was the Jaws of Life the firefighters were using, or the backboard and neck brace being put under and around me.

Concerned that I had not yet heard anything from Andrew, I told the rescuers, "I'm fine, please get my son out first." Both at the same time, two men spoke, one saying, "there's a boy in there??" and the other one saying, "we have to get you out of the way to get to him."

Not wanting to panic and scare Andrew, I asked him to pray with me. I began reciting the Lord's Prayer, listening for Andrew's voice. I didn't hear him, thinking that maybe the loud helicopter was why.  At that moment, I realized all I could see was sky and trees, followed by the plain white ceiling of the helicopter. Scissors tore through my jeans, shirt, bra and underwear, as the faces of a man and a woman appeared in my line of vision.

They told me we'd be flying to a trauma center, about a 30 minute flight. I asked if Andrew was in the helicopter with us. One of them told me no, there were people on the ground taking care of him. I asked if they could call whoever is on the ground. I needed to know how my son was. Again, I was told no, they're busy getting him out of the Tahoe, but that I could inquire about his condition when we got to the trauma center.

While in-flight, I was unaware of two things:  one, that Andrew did not survive, and two, the wherabouts of my husband.  I found out later that when he tried to reach me by radio and I didn't answer, he wasn't too concerned, as he knew I'd be coaching Andrew with his schoolwork.  Later, he tried my cell phone...no answer.  So then, he sent one of his front-escorts back behind him.  When told I wasn't there, he was surprised and doubted the escort.  Figuring I had gotten a flat tire, he found a place to pull over, which isn't easy when the truck and trailer are 115 feet long.

About this time, the police called his cell phone to inform him of the accident.  They had gotten his number from the magnetic "pilot car" signs on my Tahoe.  Before he could get to me, the police gave him  a DOT inspection.  The officer was very apologetic to my husband, but still had to do it.  My husband got to the accident site, only to be held back by the police.  He could only get close enough to see the F-250 on my car, and the helicopter on the road.  He had no idea if either Andrew or I were alive.

At the hospital, it seemed like I was handled and talked to by a million different people...trauma doctors, nurses, etc.  I learned that I had been given an alias, "Trauma Albany," to protect my identity from the media.  I really didn't know I had broken bones and bloody lacerations.  I could not understand why nobody was telling me anything about Andrew.  So I asked, "WHERE IS MY SON!?" and was told that the hospital didn't treat children, that IF he was taken to a hospital, it would be a children's hospital.

Certainly, I thought, Andrew was okay.  When I last saw him in the Tahoe, his back was turned to me.  He was sitting upright, but his seat was gone.  The center console was gone.  He sat at my knees, just an arm's length away.  From the top of his head to the middle of his back was all I could see, but everything looked normal.

What was a 30 minute flight for me was a couple hours drive for my husband.  He still had not reached the hospital when a doctor came to my bed and told me, "I'm sorry, but your son didn't make it."  I didn't believe him.  Really, I didn't believe anybody telling me that Andrew was gone.  Not even my husband when he got to the hospital.  I spent the next 6 days there with a broken left wrist that required surgery, 2 broken right-side ribs, cuts and bruises all over, and a broken bone in my lower back that wasn't severe enough for surgery. 

The accident was on a Monday, surgery on Friday, and I was released on a Sunday.  It was on that Sunday, November 13th, 2011 that I saw for myself...Andrew was dead.  It is a reality that I struggle with every moment of every day.  I can't believe my baby is gone.

I still have breath in me.  I don't know why.  I'm alive, Andrew is not.  I can't fathom how this could possibly be part of God's plan...a part that's supposed to make sense later??

If you've read this far, thank-you for taking the time.  Nobody I know knows how I feel.

Do you?

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Replies to This Discussion

Permalink Reply by Lia Lisa Saling on February 14, 2012 at 3:17pm

Wow Robin, reading your reply sounds like the way I feel; as if Andrew isn't gone, he's just "away" somewhere...which in my case makes no sense, as Andrew was only 9 and we were always together.

You sound like you have a pretty good idea of how I feel...the reality of it hasn't come yet, and when it does, I just don't know how I'm going to handle it.  But on the other hand, the reality of it has come and passed.  Perhaps I've somehow "cushioned" the blow of the reality of Andrew's death...it doesn't seem real, so I'll act as if it's not.  God help me...I do believe I'm losing my mind.

I always envisioned my "mother's worst nightmare" to be one of having my child abducted, NOT in a car accident!  I always knew where Andrew was, who he was with (usually me), what they were doing, what he was wearing...right down to the labels on his clothing and the shoes he had on!  I have no idea how I'm still functioning, let alone how I lived through such a violent collision.  It just doesn't make any sense to me.

Yeah, I stay focused one day at a time, too...'cause as we both know all too well, tomorrow is not guaranteed.  Most days, I wish there was no tomorrow.  I have family and friends that love me, and I love them, but I don't have Andrew.  I know my boy is in heaven.  I want to be with him.

Big hugs to you,

-L

Permalink Reply by Ruth on February 2, 2012 at 5:52pm
Dear Lia Lisa, I too am crying reading your post. I am so sorry for you and your husband's loss of Andrew. I am glad to read you are a believer.The fog of shock keeps us from seeing how our loved ones' losses are to be carried through, knowing God even has a plan for these times. I can only offer long distant ((((((HUGS))))) and wish your body a speedy recovery. Keep coming back here for the rest; even if you can't write, others will touch your heart and maybe help heal it a teeny tiny bit enough to want to keep going in our loved ones' name. God Bless Ruth
Permalink Reply by Lia Lisa Saling on February 14, 2012 at 3:47pm

Dear Ruth, thank you for your comforting words.  I do believe that God has a plan for everyone...from the moment we're conceived right up to how we leave our bodies.  I remain stunned that my child, rather than myself, didn't survive.  Andrew was an amazing kid...full of life, kind to others, polite, loving...just everything I could want.  He had goals and dreams that we were going to work towards...

I don't believe I'm supposed to question God, however, I can't figure out why Andrew???  I know that it will be clear to me when God chooses to make it so.  But until then, I don't know what to do with all this grief, sorrow, heartache, misery, etc.  I am feeling emotions that I've never felt before...very scary for me.  And I don't know how much my friends and family can bear...I'll never be the same again.  Sometimes I want to crawl away and die.  I sleep a lot to avoid "feeling."

Hugs and God bless you too,

-L

Permalink Reply by Lia Lisa Saling on February 14, 2012 at 4:20pm

Dear Iwona,

It sounds like you do know how I feel...and I'm pretty sure I know somewhat how you feel.  "I'm sorry" doesn't even come close to an expression of empathy for your losses.  Not to mention the sheer horror you observed!  I truly don't have words for you...but I will pray for your comfort, healing and strength.

I believe it to be a God thing that I was unconscious as my horror took place.  Had I been conscious...God only knows how I would have handled it.  I understand the anger, frustration, emptiness and lonliness.  I'm no expert at life to begin with, but I'm here for you if you need someone to vent/cry/talk to.

-L

 

 

 

Permalink Reply by Lia Lisa Saling on February 18, 2012 at 5:49pm

Hi Iwona,

You're welcome...really all any of us can do for each other is pray and listen.  All we want are our loved ones back, and we all know that's not possible.  How to cope with the horrible emptiness...dear friend, I wish I had an answer for you...

Yesterday, I had an awful day.  I cried all day.  I talked to a friend who cares, but that didn't really make me feel any better.  She has a son, too...but he's alive and well, thank God.  Nobody I know really knows how I feel...they haven't lost a child.  And because they're my friends, I don't want them to KNOW how I feel...that would mean they've been through what I'm going through.

I talked to my mom, who could tell over the phone that I'd been crying.  She asked me "what's wrong?"  Even my own mom...I would think that I wouldn't have to explain!  I guess there was some miscommunication...my mom thought that there was something else wrong...some new heartache.  When I told her I had been crying because I am really missing Andrew, she said I'd always miss him.

So basically, my friends and family don't know what to say to me, and I don't know what to say to them either!  I've come to the conclusion that God is my only confidante...He knows what's in my heart and He cares the most for me.  Andrew is with God.  For me, I must find some comfort in that.

But it still hurts so very bad.  I don't know that I'm coping...just taking it one hour at a time.  That's all I can do for myself.  Praying for you...for comfort, strength, and everything you need to get through your days.

-L

Permalink Reply by Kimberly Short on February 15, 2012 at 3:26pm

My dear friend, I can never know your pain. We found my dad dead from a drug overdose in may 2011, and it has really been  indescribably hard. However, as a mom myself, I cant begin to know what you are going through. The best thought i can offer you is to just try your best to not try to hide from your pain with drugs or alchohol, as i have found myself doing (drinking for me), and dont let anyone try to tell you how you should feel or where you should be in your grief  at any given point. If you are mad at God, thats ok too. The you that you once were is gone, along with im sure alot of your old belief systems etc....In time I know you will find your way and yourself again. Lastly, i know that in these early stages, NOTHING brings comfort really, but please know that i STRONGLY believe that we are eternal beings, and our souls do not die at death, and your little boy will be with you always, and someday when you depart this world yourself, he will be waiting for his mommy. I am so beyond sorry for the loss of your son....

Permalink Reply by Bonnie Elizabeth Fleming on March 6, 2012 at 9:55am

I can't tell you I know exactly how you feel.  God hasn't blessed me with children yet.  I'm 46 and I think I'm barren.  I do know how painful it is to think of yourself living through something and your loved one not making it, though, so my heart goes out to you even though the situation is a little different.  My older sister died very suddenly the day after Christmas as we were driving back to our home after having spent Christmas Day with my brother and his family in a town about six hours from the one we live in.  Grief just sweeps over you, and you alternate between being royally pissed off at God for taking your loved one and wondering just exactly why it happened and how it all can possibly make sense.  I am told that we all cycle through "what if"  What if I hadn't been taking her somewhere and we'd been closer to emergency help (it took 45 minutes for them to get to us because we were on an isolated stretch of road when it happened).  What if I had MADE her go to the hospital earlier that day when the paramedics had come to lift her up after she fell down in our hotel room (my sister was disabled and she was too heavy for me to pick up by myself and she had fallen earlier in the morning and yet had refused a hospital visit, thinking that if she needed a hospital, she wanted to be in one in the town where she and I lived and so she wanted me to taker her home) I'm sure you must have your own set of "what if's" that keep racing through your mind too.  The conclusion I've come to....at least at this moment...is that we can't always understand what God has in mind.  At this moment it doesn't exactly feel as though he had MY best interests in mind!!  I have people tell me that I am selfish to want her back.  In my case, this might be somewhat true--she was disabled and dependent and she hated being both, she was in constant pain and was unable to work or even fix food for herself.   For those last few years she was a lot like a young child because of the level of care she required, which is one of the reasons I feel so sympathetic to you, she was my baby you see.  Anyway, if I believe (and I do) that when someone gets to heaven all their pains are taken away, then logically that means that my sister is DEFINITELY better off where she is.   In your case, that might not be as easy to see since your baby was only 9.  I feel so deeply for you...and I don't know the right thing to say to make you feel better.  What I do know is that sometimes God needs things we can not percieve...perhaps he needed your boy's help in some way?  We can never really know, of course.  What you need to know is that your boy will always be with you...if you're like me you feel him there and you find yourself talking to him inside your head.  You have this magnificent, miraculous memory that God gave you.  Use it.  Remember how fun loving your child was?  His aptitude for different things?  In essence, he lives inside you and he always will.  I find comfort in remembering my sister in these ways, I must admit I even talk to her and chat with her as I always did.  Let yourself grieve and question...that is only natural....but teach yourself to remember with joy and love amidst it.  Personally, I think that's the only way I can remain sane.   

Permalink Reply by Emily K on March 6, 2012 at 5:35pm

I am not a parent so I could never imagine the hurt it would feel to lose your child, especially as young as Andrew was but I have asked so many of the same questions when I recently lost my father and his long time girlfriend in a boating accident. I didn't understand why it was happening to them, and to our family. No one will ever know, but hopefully you, I and anyone else experiencing such a tragedy will become stronger people for it.. never taking any moment, or person for granted.

 I am so extremely sorry for your loss and just wanted to extend my thoughts and prayers.

Take care

Permalink Reply by Elizabeth Ann Collins on July 2, 2012 at 12:22pm

I just read your post and am still shaking.  It reads like a horror movie.   To have to go thru such a tragedy and lose your son while you survived must be horrible.  I have a son (adult now) but I could not imagine what it must be like. 

Last year on Dec. 9th my husband of 3 years was standing in our doorway and I was right behind him when he was shot and killed.  I ask God why did he take him and leave me?  Like you, I cannot see the sense in this being a part of His plan  either.

People tell me it will get better in time and I'm sure you have been told this as well but, honestly, it does not get better.  I have no advice for you but to stay strong, it took courage for you to tell your story and I will pray for you and your husband.

 

Permalink Reply by Debra Waszut on July 5, 2012 at 3:04pm

No I don't but I lost my beloved husband of 33 years at age 54 6 weeks ago.  I can't compare to you except for the fact that the pain is excruciating I know.  I am told we will heal in time and that this is all in Gods Plan.  You need to read Heaven is for Real and Embraced by the light.  Both of these books have helped me greatly.  Cling to your husband.  HE is in pain to and you need each other.  I am so sorry for this horrible loss.

Permalink Reply by renee collier on July 9, 2012 at 11:17pm

I am sooooo sorry about the loss of your sweet Andrew.  As I was reading, I kept thinking, this sounds like a movie or something that can be real because it is so awful.  I am a mother and therefore I know the love a mother has for their child.  I had tears reading your experience.   The way that I know the feeling of loss is because I lost my fiance suddenly. I found him dead.  It is awful to have someone you love die and you didn't have time to say bye.  There is a whole in my heart and I am sure that is what you feel like. A void that you feel will never be replaced.  And your right I don't see how the loss of your son is a part of God's Plan. 

I will pray for you and your family and for your son Andrew.

I am glad you found this site.

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