Fracture

   This day began as any other for me.  I got up, fed the kids breakfast.   Put them on the bus to school with a promise that I would see them later.  It was the day for Libby's White Christmas play.  She was 'Little Nell'.  Her cousin Hayden was Baby Pat.  I was a little sad already, as I sat there, and watched Hayden do his part and thought about how his Mama should be here.  She wasn't, she would have been, if she could, but she was gone.  She had died in her sleep the year before.  There were, and still are the pangs of missing her.  A mother gone, leaving 3 children, is always a sad thing.  I sat through and enjoyed the play, we took pictures of the kids after.  I had made some video.  I have yet to watch it. This is actually the first time I have posted the above picture.  Not long after, I would leave the school and find out about Daddy.   

I am amazed by how a tragedy occurs.  When you suffer a tear, a fracture.  You have this surreal(at least in my experience) feeling.  Like time slows down and folds in on itself.  I can remember that time clearly, though all around it is a fog.  I can't remember what I had for breakfast that morning, I can't remember who I talked to at the play.  I do remember with precision every moment of that afternoon.  

I got home after the play.  I had promised Libby that I would be back for her party at school.  I went home to feed the children, I keep, lunch.  I like to be there at lunch.  I relieved my friend, who was helping me be able to go to attend the school functions. She took off to go to her work for one more hour.  We ate. (though I don't remember that either) My husband came home for lunch.  He mostly does come home for a noon-day meal , though there are days which he doesn't, especially if he knows it will be hectic.  I am very glad he did.  It was orchestrated for him to. ( I believe that)  Everyone was fed and my friend returned so I could get to the school.  My husband went outside to walk our new dog.  I thought he had left for work.  My phone rang...a dear friend on the other line...he had a question.  He wanted to know if my Uncle, Mike, had be shot.  He said his father had heard it on the scanner and wanted to know.  This bothered me.  I immediately called my Aunt Janet. (my uncle's wife)  She answered.  I asked if everyone was ok.  She paused and said, "Yeah!"   I chuckled, good,  and told her the story of the phone call and asked about my uncle.  I told her first that I hadn't wanted to alarm her but I just wanted to check and make sure he was ok .  She reassured me that he was.  Relieved, I said something about not being able to believe everything you hear on the scanner.  I will always be thankful for her ability to lie this day.  Don't get me wrong...this was not a normal thing for my aunt.  I have never found her to do well with anything but the truth.  She was quick on her feet today and got out a convincible lie.   'Everything is ok, but is your husband home?' I said no. I thought he had left for work.  She took his cell phone number.  She said 'Something is wrong and it is bad, but I need to talk to Chance.' Said it was something about my uncle's company.  This was odd to me.  Why would she need to talk to him about that?  Why couldn't she talk tell me?  From here my mind went into overdrive.  It is in my nature to LOVE a mystery.  I am THAT person you don't want to watch a movie with because I can almost always guess what is really going on.   It is hard to surprise me or catch me off guard.  I have always loved shows like CSI, Cold Case Files, Without a Trace.  My mind just works that way.  It is a challenge to solve it before the investigators do.  Looking back I should have figured it all out faster.  If it were not MY real life, I could have.  I think my brain triggered a safety mechanism.  I think it sucked the truth behind a wall because I really could not know yet.  I think this because I stood there numb for like a second or two. The look on my face must have been odd because my friend said "What?"  I told her part of it and then my husband walked in.  I told him to call my Aunt, gave him what info I could and he found it odd too.  I stood in the kitchen and watched my husband on the phone.  I saw his face as he said 'OH.'  It wasn't an 'OH NO!'  he didn't respond in a way to verbally give it away, he was at one time a grief counselor, he could do this.  I just stood there hand resting on the kitchen chair.  With him still on the phone...I figured it out.  My mind still could not let it be so.  He would have to tell me.  I started to get emotional and my friend ushered the kids out of the kitchen into another room, as my husband got off of the phone.

He would use his 'counseling' voice.  The same voice he used to seek out corrected behavior in our kids,  the exact same voice, he used, to tell my kids when their aunt, his sister, died.  I started our conversation though, " What, what is it?!! I screamed...It is Daddy isn't it?"  

"Yes, He's gone."

He walked over and caught me as I lost it for a little while.

WhYyyyyy?  Whooooo?  all of these thoughts were racing through my mind.  I managed, "Who would do this, who would take my sweet Daddy?" "OH!" " I didn't get to say goodbye." "I didn't even get to say goodbye."

All my life, we had goodbye's.  Daddy was a hard worker.  He worked long hours. He was raised with good manners, he would always tell everyone goodbye.   He would say bye every morning as he left. Peck us with a kiss and he was off.  He would go on fishing trips, same thing.  When I was 20 they all packed up and went on the mission field.  I was proud of them but I would not go with them.  The next 10 years were spent saying long goodbye's. At first, they were gone for very long stretches and didn't have a phone readily available.  I could not call them but would have to wait for calls.  I was used to goodbyes, but then, at least we got to say them.  This was foreign.  This trip would be his longest yet and we didn't get to have a goodbye. 

I finally calmed down enough to get the details.  Work had called, he hadn't shown up.  This was irregular for him.  He always went to work,  sometimes even sick.  If he didn't go in, he would call.  He was old school and his work ethic was very high.  He taught us all to be that way.  His workplace had called my uncle's business.  This was their link.  My uncle had recommended him for the job.  My Aunt Vickie who worked for my uncle(his sister) took the call and immediately called my uncle.  He wasn't at work yet or maybe he had come and left to run errands in town.  He called his foreman, Jack to go out and check on Daddy.  Jack had always been around.  For as long as I could remember, he had always worked for our family.  A great big man with a bigger heart.  He would be the one to find him. 

"Hope, Jack found him on the back porch.  It looked like he had been beaten and then shot."  My mind was reeling.  REALLY?  I remember thinking...REALLY?  Who would have beaten and then shot him? Wouldn't one or the other be enough?  WHYYYY? WHOOO? who could have done this?  They obviously didn't KNOW him.  They didn't know what a kind and gentle person he was.  It would have had to have been more than one person.   My dad would not have stood there and let someone beat him.  What happened?  Who could he have made this angry?  Was it a robbery gone terribly wrong?  WHAT???! 

As the day progressed the story would change but the initial story was so horrible.  I didn't think I could take any more.  So much had happened the past few years.  So many sad details to be added to.  The Bible says that God never gives us more than we can bear.  I felt I was approaching my threshold...