That Dreadful Day

With five lively kids in our van, we were heading home for a barbeque after a delightful summer Sunday in the city.
Then the crash. In a horrifying split second, our lives were shattered.
Anne, my precious first born, was dead just before her 13th birthday. Funny little Adam, my six-year-old, was fatally injured.
Handsome young Paul was 10, now a survivor without his only brother and sister.
My husband and I escaped serious physical injury but suffered emotional damage that would almost destroy us. The friend riding with us and his daughter were not seriously hurt but his son was critically wounded. Thank God they are all doing well today.
Police investigation confirmed that an oncoming car had swerved from his lane and hit the back of our van despite my husband’s attempt to avoid him. Our vehicle did a 180-degree turn and flipped on its side. The back hatch flew open, expelling the bench seat with four children strapped into it.
Much of me died in that moment.

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