Through My Sister's Eyes - Part II

After finally regaining my composure from seeing the vision of my sister's fatal accident, I needed to call her husband Bill. It was important for me to find out how he was holding up and how the kids were doing.

I was never particularly fond of Bill. He was a workaholic, aloof, and a bit pompous … a brilliant man with, in my opinion, absolutely no common sense. I didn’t care for the indifferent way he treated Diane and had never heard him have a compassionate discussion on any subject. My mother, however, had assured me on several occasions that he could be quite human. She was actually very fond of him.

Anyway, I picked up the phone and called. “Bill” I said, “This is Terry … I’m so sorry about Diane. Are you ok? How are the babies?”

The babies? I had never referred to her youngest children as ‘the babies’, but Diane did. In addition, I had never been so genuinely interested in Bill’s well-being. I found those feelings strange, even under the circumstance.

We talked for awhile. I comforted him and eventually learned that he was planning on leaving the next morning to drive up to my mom and dad’s Florida home, about 8 hours north of Miami. He wanted mom’s opinion on the dress in which Diane should be buried, and on the various funeral arrangements.

Since we had never been that close, Bill was surprised when I informed him that I would fly down the next morning to accompany him on the drive. His surprise couldn’t have been greater than mine, however, when that statement came out of my mouth. Although noticeably confused by my offer, he seemed genuinely appreciative of having my company on the long drive, and valued another family opinion on the decisions that needed to be made for my sister’s funeral.

On this trip Bill also had the agonizing responsibility to stop at the police department in Leesburg, about halfway between Miami and my parent’s winter home, to identify Diane’s body. He was hoping to learn some details about how the accident happened and I had hoped to find a way to tell him about the vision.

The next morning Bill picked me up at Miami International Airport. We exchanged greetings, embraced, and cried. Then we got into his car and headed north on the same freeway that had claimed my sister’s life just days before.

After a short time conversation became awkward, so I was quiet as Bill drove. I racked my brain trying to formulate a way of telling him about my vision. I wanted to tell him before we got to the police station, before he found out from them what had happened. It was just so difficult to approach this topic.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of silence, I said to him, “Bill…did they tell you anything about what happened to cause the accident? Was it a car or truck that hit her? Who was at fault? Did they tell you anything at all?” His reply was no. I garnered all the courage that I could muster and said “I think I do”.

He took his eyes off the road for just a moment and looked at me. In that brief glance there was an expression of surprise and disbelief. A look that begged the question of how I could know anything at all when he knew nothing.

So I began a delicately worded description of the vision that I had been given the evening I found out about Diane’s death. Those images and feelings had clearly presented me with firsthand details of the accident, through my sister’s eyes.

I told him, from what I saw and felt, Diane was tired from driving all night and stopped for coffee. He was quite aware that she liked to drive through the night so she could get more out of her trips. She usually had her day’s agenda packed to the gill. Most often she had the two youngest kids with her. In fact she hardly took a road trip without them, especially when she was going to see Nana and Bampa. (That’s what all the grandkids affectionately called our mom and dad.) But this trip her plans had included checking out some real estate for possible purchase, so she had left the babies at home.

Continuing the conversation, I told Bill the vision had revealed that after her break for coffee, in the early dawning hours of daylight, Diane was still very sleepy. She had gotten back on the freeway and, after seeing the headlights of oncoming cars in her lane and the southbound lanes to her right, she had eventually realized that she was going the wrong direction on the freeway.

Bill was skeptical about the whole idea of my having seen a vision of the accident; I could see it in his facial expressions. He kept driving and listened.

“Bill”, I said, “I saw Diane’s hands on the steering wheel, and through the windshield I saw everything that she had seen on the road in front of her. I felt the emotions that she felt right up to the end."

I wept as I continued telling him about the vision. I had clearly seen the other vehicle when they collided. It was a pick-up truck with a camper top. I knew it was a lone male driver, because I had seen the terrified look on his face just before the collision. I had seen his fear and felt her terror-filled remorse. Diane never wanted to hurt anyone. That’s why she had veered right into the median instead of to the left. There were so many cars in the lane of oncoming traffic, so many innocent people that could have been hurt, had she veered left. Even in the final moments of her life, she had attempted to not hurt anyone.

We drove the rest of the way to the police station in silence. It was a long, awkward silence that ate away at my self-confidence. I had no idea whether he believed me or not, but I knew what I had seen and I was positive that was how the accident had happened.

Bill and I both dreaded the purpose of our visit with the police in Leesburg. We were going there to discover facts and to claim Diane’s body. She had her purse and all of her credentials with her when the accident occurred, but identifying the body was a police formality.

I had already informed Bill that I would wait in the lobby for him. There was no need for me to go in to talk with the detective or to see her body. My emotional stamina had been tested enough.

A long sidewalk meandered through the neatly manicured lawn, and lead to the glass front doors of the station. The building itself had a pleasant modern architecture that made a favorable impression on me as we approached.

After announcing our arrival and purpose to the receptionist, Bill had been escorted into a private office and I settled down in the waiting area with thoughts about my sister.

Much sooner than I had expected, Bill appeared in the doorway carrying Diane’s personal effects. His face was ghostly pale and expressionless.

I rose from the chair and walked to meet him. We never said a word. I couldn’t think of anything to say that might comfort him, so I had remained silent. Later I found out that the detective had not insisted that Bill identify the body. It, after all, was a formality and Bill was so obviously distraught.

We walked out the doors and about halfway down the sidewalk when Bill suddenly stopped and turned toward me.

“Terry” he said to me, “The accident happened exactly as you saw it … exactly.”

Oh my God. I knew the vision had showed me how it had happened, but it was a relief for that information to be verified by others, especially by the police who investigated the accident and interviewed eyewitnesses.

I don’t know if Bill became a believer that day, but it certainly opened his mind to the possibility that Diane revealed the details of the accident to me. For what reason, we had no idea. From that point on, Bill was open to believe and understand when Diane started communicating her wishes, through me. She began making her own decisions on the arrangements for her funeral and burial. But that was just the beginning. Over the weeks and months that followed, it took all the open-mindedness that both of us had to deal with her.