by Pa Rock
It was late on New Year's Eve in the final hours of 2009 when the telephone call brought the shocking news.
My sister and I had buried our father earlier that week, and we were both spending the night in his large house trying to figure out what to do with all of the stuff that he had accumulated over his long life. Our kids had all been in town for the funeral service, and by this time most had either gotten back to their homes or were on their way.
When the telephone rang, Gail had already gone upstairs to bed. My sister's oldest daughter, Heidi, was on the phone with the horrific news the her father (my sister's ex-husband of many years), Bob Smith, had just been killed in a car wreck in rural Texas along with his cousin,Bobby Jack Short, and that the family's youngest son, Reed (age 23) had been life-flighted to Amarillo where he was headed into a very critical surgery. Reed's girlfriend, Jamie (who later became his wife), was also in the car and had suffered less serious injuries. She was providing Heidi (a medical doctor) with updates by phone.
Bob and his cousin were driving the young couple back to their homes in Las Vegas after my father's funeral.
It was a long night of medical updates and frantic calls to airlines trying to arrange quick flights to Amarillo, but not long after sunrise on New Year's day, 2010, several of us were already on the ground in Texas and heading toward the hospital. Reed had survived surgery and was lying deep in a coma. He would remain that way for a prolonged time, and it was several weeks later before he was finally well enough to leave.
During the time that Reed was in Amarillo, the hospital halls were crowded with relatives, friends from high school, friends from college, and even his boss from Vegas. His mother, Gail, never left his side, and Doctor Heidi was also constantly at his bedside. Reed's siblings, Tiffany and Justin, flew back to Missouri and laid their father to rest, but they were soon back in Texas waiting patiently for their brother to regain consciousness.
And we waited, and waited, and it was the absolute scariest time that most of us had ever experienced.
But Reed, always a fighter, pulled through.
Now he and Jamie both teach in northwest Arkansas. Reed coaches a junior high girls' basketball team and this past weekend they won a holiday tournament - and the coach was ecstatic - just as so many of us were when he finally woke up in that Amarillo hospital!
We love you, Reed!
(Note: All of my postings from that awful time are available in the archives of this blog.)
It was late on New Year's Eve in the final hours of 2009 when the telephone call brought the shocking news.
My sister and I had buried our father earlier that week, and we were both spending the night in his large house trying to figure out what to do with all of the stuff that he had accumulated over his long life. Our kids had all been in town for the funeral service, and by this time most had either gotten back to their homes or were on their way.
When the telephone rang, Gail had already gone upstairs to bed. My sister's oldest daughter, Heidi, was on the phone with the horrific news the her father (my sister's ex-husband of many years), Bob Smith, had just been killed in a car wreck in rural Texas along with his cousin,Bobby Jack Short, and that the family's youngest son, Reed (age 23) had been life-flighted to Amarillo where he was headed into a very critical surgery. Reed's girlfriend, Jamie (who later became his wife), was also in the car and had suffered less serious injuries. She was providing Heidi (a medical doctor) with updates by phone.
Bob and his cousin were driving the young couple back to their homes in Las Vegas after my father's funeral.
It was a long night of medical updates and frantic calls to airlines trying to arrange quick flights to Amarillo, but not long after sunrise on New Year's day, 2010, several of us were already on the ground in Texas and heading toward the hospital. Reed had survived surgery and was lying deep in a coma. He would remain that way for a prolonged time, and it was several weeks later before he was finally well enough to leave.
During the time that Reed was in Amarillo, the hospital halls were crowded with relatives, friends from high school, friends from college, and even his boss from Vegas. His mother, Gail, never left his side, and Doctor Heidi was also constantly at his bedside. Reed's siblings, Tiffany and Justin, flew back to Missouri and laid their father to rest, but they were soon back in Texas waiting patiently for their brother to regain consciousness.
And we waited, and waited, and it was the absolute scariest time that most of us had ever experienced.
But Reed, always a fighter, pulled through.
Now he and Jamie both teach in northwest Arkansas. Reed coaches a junior high girls' basketball team and this past weekend they won a holiday tournament - and the coach was ecstatic - just as so many of us were when he finally woke up in that Amarillo hospital!
We love you, Reed!
(Note: All of my postings from that awful time are available in the archives of this blog.)
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