The Vision - Part I
It’s been over twenty-two years since my sister died. I can’t explain why it’s taken me this long to write down the happenings that followed for almost six months after her death. The visions, conversations, and directives are as vivid now as they were all those years ago.
Mid-day, I received a call from my eldest sister, Arlene, informing me of our sister Diane’s death. It was a car accident, five days prior. She didn’t know any details. It happened in Leesburg, a small town in central Florida, and had taken most of the week for the authorities to locate and notify Diane’s husband Bill in Miami. Diane had been visiting mom and dad and the accident happened on her return trip.
I held up alright while on the phone with Arlene, but was overcome with grief after we hung up. The questions that I had were overshadowed by the numbness that followed, as I must have gone into shock. My eight-year-old daughter Ronica hovered over me like a mother hen, as I coped by slipping into a cleaning frenzy. Answers came later that day when a friend came to comfort me and we lay down in my room to calm my shattered existence.
Lying on my back with my eyes closed I saw a highway ahead of me. It was early morning, when there was enough light to see well but most cars still had their headlights on. I saw the road, the steering wheel, and hands on the wheel. At first I didn’t feel emotions. Not until I saw the two cars coming directly toward me in my lane. How stupid of them! It was then that I first felt the anger.
Mid-day, I received a call from my eldest sister, Arlene, informing me of our sister Diane’s death. It was a car accident, five days prior. She didn’t know any details. It happened in Leesburg, a small town in central Florida, and had taken most of the week for the authorities to locate and notify Diane’s husband Bill in Miami. Diane had been visiting mom and dad and the accident happened on her return trip.
I held up alright while on the phone with Arlene, but was overcome with grief after we hung up. The questions that I had were overshadowed by the numbness that followed, as I must have gone into shock. My eight-year-old daughter Ronica hovered over me like a mother hen, as I coped by slipping into a cleaning frenzy. Answers came later that day when a friend came to comfort me and we lay down in my room to calm my shattered existence.
Lying on my back with my eyes closed I saw a highway ahead of me. It was early morning, when there was enough light to see well but most cars still had their headlights on. I saw the road, the steering wheel, and hands on the wheel. At first I didn’t feel emotions. Not until I saw the two cars coming directly toward me in my lane. How stupid of them! It was then that I first felt the anger.
I supposed that the two cars were both in a rush and trying to move up in the traffic. Fortunately the first driver in the wrong lane saw me and pulled back into the long line in his correct lane. I was relieved until I saw the pick-up truck. I t was behind the first car and had no chance of getting out of my way. I felt panic hit me when I realized that we would surely collide. I had to make a choice. I could veer to the left and hit the entire line of oncoming traffic, or veer to the right and go into the median. I chose the median.
Then confusion swept over me. The median was on the wrong side of the road. I noticed to the distant right, across the wide median, two lanes of traffic were traveling in the direction I was going. Oh my God! I was the one going the wrong direction. I was going south on the northbound lanes of the freeway. Thinking back, I had known that I was tired from driving through the night, and had stopped for coffee. After having the coffee, I had returned to the interstate. How could I have made such a terrible mistake? Sheer terror overcame me. Terror like I have never known in my lifetime.
It seemed like slow motion watching the truck as he made the same decision to drive into the median in an attempt to avoid a collision. Our vehicles got closer and closer as if magnets were drawing us together. A mixture of anger and remorse filled those terrifying seconds.
I gripped the wheel even harder as I saw the driver’s horrified face. It was in that last brief moment that I realized the hands that were gripping the steering wheel for dear life weren’t mine … they were my sister Diane’s hands. Then everything went a brilliant white.
I was shaken and trembling when fear jarred me out of that vision, exhausted from the surge of intense emotions. Sobbing in terror, I cried out for my friend to hold me.
He held me tightly but it was hours before I calmed down and days before I realized why I was given the detailed vision of the accident that claimed my sister’s life that day.
It seemed like slow motion watching the truck as he made the same decision to drive into the median in an attempt to avoid a collision. Our vehicles got closer and closer as if magnets were drawing us together. A mixture of anger and remorse filled those terrifying seconds.
I gripped the wheel even harder as I saw the driver’s horrified face. It was in that last brief moment that I realized the hands that were gripping the steering wheel for dear life weren’t mine … they were my sister Diane’s hands. Then everything went a brilliant white.
I was shaken and trembling when fear jarred me out of that vision, exhausted from the surge of intense emotions. Sobbing in terror, I cried out for my friend to hold me.
He held me tightly but it was hours before I calmed down and days before I realized why I was given the detailed vision of the accident that claimed my sister’s life that day.
