It was then that I remembered something about the accident. Not necessarily it but an incident that followed it. In a spirit of sincere Christian concern, my parents went to the deceased man’s house to speak to his widow. They went there to offer their condolences in person, back in a kinder, more well-mannered time. They left me in the car, I guess, with a stack of my favorites, Golden Books, and a coloring book. I heard the woman screeching obscenities at my dear parents, especially my mother. I guess they were obscenities because even at that age, I knew her words were “bad words.” She was inebriated, as was her husband the night of the accident. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the weeks leading up to my dear father’s passing in 1997, I did ask him about the accident. He told me that the man was a habitual drunk and frequented the trashy bars and dives that dotted Beach Boulevard in those days. The night of the accident, near present-day Veterans Boulevard, he staggered out in front of our car. Mother only had time to slam on the breaks before slamming into him. When the police arrived, my mother was not charged in any way\u2014the man’s death could not be avoided. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
My father also told me that Mother, being very sensitive, had difficulty resolving the death that had occurred that night. In the weeks that followed, she had a mild, nervous breakdown, took to her bed, and cried a great deal. That I do remember! Only with God’s grace and the prayers of those she loved did Mother put it behind her. Or so it would seem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The mind is a twisted creation, completely disintegrating some bad memories while shoving others into its deepest recesses to be recalled later. In the days before Mother passed away, she ofttimes “spoke” to things unseen. There were times when she looked upward, smiling, her fading blue eyes dancing\u2014perhaps seeing Heaven and the joys therein?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But once, only once, the smile faded, and the eyes stop dancing. In a frail voice, my mother\u2014my kind, loving Christian mother\u2014mumbled, “\u2026killed\u2026forgive…me\u2026” She drifted off to sleep. I was stunned. Distant thunder rattled her bedroom windows. Rain peppered the glass. The clock chimed the hour. Tears drifted down my face. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
After all the passing years, was Mother reliving that night again? Reliving the mental anguish and the physical pain? And in her disoriented state, was she asking, once again, to be forgiven for a death that happened on a cold September’s night over sixty years ago? A death that was now just a dry, dusty memory? However, imagine the joy she experienced when that dusty memory was quenched by the words of her Savior, “Welcome Home, my good and faithful servant.” <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Miss you, Mama. Miss you, Daddy. But hopefully one day soon\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n I don’t remember much about that night, the night of the accident. I was only four-and-a-half years old. My father was working the night shift, and my mother and I were on our way to pick him up. As mother always did on those nights, she laid a snuggly-warm, patchwork quilt on the back floorboard […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1417,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/anthonykalberg.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/Pile-of-old-letters-600x414.jpg\")
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