I can't really write any other words that genuinely express how I feel about them. It's just a week short of one year since this happened.
It was one foggy day. But I don't think anyone realized how bad it was. I will never forget Mom calling me to tell me. Dad had been in a bad wreck. Another semi had pulled out in front of his semi and he was on his way to the hospital in an ambulance. I had been getting the boys ready to go eat lunch with her. So all I had to do was get in the car. I called Matt first but he was already about an hour and a half from home. So I called Grandma Windish to watch the boys and Matt's Uncle Michael was able to go with me. I'm glad he did, just talking to him while we drove was enough to keep my mind distracted. The hospital he was taken to is about 40 minutes from home.
I got to the hospital before Mom did that day. Only because the way that she would've normally went to the hospital was where Dad had his wreck, so she had to turn around and go the long way. When I got to the ER, I had to fill out some papers before they would let me see him. I couldn't hardly sign my own name, let alone think of what my parents address was, the address I had grown up with.
They finally let me go in. Dad was a bloody mess, to the point I only recognized his hands. He had glass from the windshield all over him. His whole head was already swollen pretty badly. Both eyes had cuts either above them or all around them. He has false front teeth, but the nurse had taken them out. He looked horrible, like Quasimodo. I went up and held his hand, he was still pretty confused on what had happened. He asked me who I was. Talk about your heart dropping clear down to your stomach. But I explained to him that he'd been in a wreck. He called me Hez (some silly name I've been called since I was little). I don't have a picture of him in the hospital. Believe me, you don't want to see it.
Mom and my brother Jake ran in about 10 minutes after I first saw him. I called my sisters and let them know what had happened. I don't know what was really worse, being able to see him or wanting to and not being able to see him. My sister, Lyn finally came in too. I told Michael that he could go on home and I would ride home with her. We stayed that night until Dad's MRI and catscan were finished. By the time we were ready to go home, he was joking and talking with us. His whole head was covered in bandages, with one eye uncovered so he could see. Picture a soap opera brian operation's bandages. He even wanted to see himself in the mirror. I think that scared him.
Dad amazingly got to come home the next day. There was a lot of physical therapy and followup appointments but he's doing well today. Still driving a truck.
I think that my body unconciously shook that whole day. Now I am usually the one that's crying and getting all emotional, but I held it together pretty well that day. We won't talk about what happened that night after I got home. I am so thankful...oh, how I love my dad and mom.