My Parents - My Best FriendsBy Kim Thomas A sign on a church that I recently read said: Get Rich Quickly - Count Your Blessings.As I began to reflect back on my life, I got rich very quickly because I am definitely so rich in blessings. My blessings began on a farm north of Moundridge in McPherson County, Kansas. I entered the world into a family consisting of two loving parents and two older brothers, along with numerous relatives, to welcome me. Being the baby of the family and the only girl was perfect. My dad was a farmer and owned his own construction company. My mom was a dietician. For as long as I can remember, my brothers and I were loved and supported by our parents unconditionally. As we grew up, married and began our own families, our parents remained an integral part of our lives. We continued to seek their advice on careers, raising children, and day-to-day activities. For me, my parents also became my best friends. They were always there for me no matter what happened. Unfortunately, though, I can no longer seek the guidance and wisdom of my parents. It was a beautiful fall day, October 2, 1997. Life began that morning as it usually did ... both kids off to school, husband off to work, and before I left for my teaching job, I visited with Mom to confirm that they were still planning to drive to Wichita that evening for a visit. What a great time we were going to have!! After all, my best friends - Mom and Dad - were coming over. But, plans drastically changed. At 11:10 A.M., I received a phone call - you know ... the kind of phone call that you never want to receive. The voice on the other end began to tell me of a tragedy ... something so unreal that at first it did not soak in. But then in moments, the impact of the words hit me like none other. The phone call I received was regarding my parents. They were the victims of a horrific, fatal crash caused by a drunk driver. I was at school when I received the phone call that my parents were involved in an accident in McPherson County just one-half mile from the farm where I grew up. I quickly asked how many people were in the car because my Mom and Dad were always together with my aunt and uncle. My mom and her twin sister married brothers. The four of them were nearly inseparable. The hospital administrator on the other end of the phone told me that it was only Mom and Dad. He said that they had called for the Life Watch helicopter to bring my dad here to Wichita because he had been seriously injured. But, the hospital administrator made no comment about Mom. So I asked about my mom. He did not want to tell me anything other than that she was hurt badly, too. I kept pressing for an answer. I had to know. The news was devastating. Mom died instantly at the scene of the accident from head injuries. The hospital administrator asked about notifying my brothers. I told him that he should do it ... that I would not be able to tell them. My husband and I got to Wesley Hospital before the helicopter arrived. The helicopter did not arrive on time as planned. My dad could not be moved from the Moundridge Hospital until he stabilized. We were not even sure at this point that Dad would live and even be brought to Wichita. My brothers and their families were on their way to Wichita, too. They were to arrive shortly at the hospital from Topeka, Kansas, and Columbia, Missouri. While waiting for the helicopter and other family members, the hospital chaplain was always present trying to offer words of comfort. But, what can one say at a time like this? Dad finally arrived at the hospital. The trauma team rushed him immediately into surgery. Dad had many broken bones along with critical internal injuries. One of the first things to enter my mind was how I was going to tell my children. There was no good way to tell my children that the grandma they idolized was dead and that grandpa who always put them first in his life was injured so seriously that he may not live. I had made arrangements for relatives to get my children from school. Tony was a sophomore in high school and Tammy was in eighth grade. As soon as they arrived at the hospital, I took them into a private room with me and shared the horrible news. Their reactions were as I thought they would be ... their worlds just ended. Dad made it though surgery. My brothers and I were wrestling with the fact that in the very near future, we may have to decide whether to continue with life support or not ... a decision that none of us wanted to make. We had agreed that we would give Dad a fighting chance to make it because if it were one of us in that hospital bed, Dad would have done the same for us ... he would have never given up on us. The accident happened on a Thursday. As we made funeral arrangements for Mom, we also made tentative funeral arrangements for Dad. We were just living from minute to minute not knowing what the next minute would hold. There was a strong possibility that we would be having a double funeral. But, Dad continued put up a good fight. We continued to talk to Dad, to tell him about what was happening with the crops, who all came to visit, and other events. The only things we did not talk about were the accident, Mom's death, and her impending funeral. Because of being on life support, Dad was unable to talk to us. Actually, we were not even sure Dad could hear us. Dad held on and his condition allowed us to leave Wichita on the following Monday for Mom's funeral in Moundridge. Dad remained intensive care on life support for six days. On the sixth day, his condition worsened and worsened. The decision my brothers and I were dreading was taken care of for us. The doctors came to us to tell us that life as Dad once knew it would be no more. They told us it was time for us to visit with him one last time to tell him goodbye. As we said our goodbyes, one of my brothers told Dad that it was okay for him to let go ... that he had raised three good children and that we would be all right until we saw him again in Heaven. And, to our complete amazement, a tear rolled down his face. We all told him that we loved him and that we would see him again soon. And then, another tear rolled down his face! What a blessing! Dad could hear us and he understood. Dad's life here on earth was over on that Wednesday afternoon. His funeral was Friday in Moundridge. Never did I think I would bury both of my parents the same week. What impact did this accident have on my family? There is no way to measure it. It was not only my children's worlds that ended in October 1997. All of our worlds ended. Neither of my brothers nor I were ready to give up Mom or Dad. It did not matter that we were grown. We still needed their love and wisdom and guidance. None of the five grandchildren was ready to give up Grandma or Grandpa. They needed their Grandma and Grandpa to attend their sporting events, high school and college graduations, and marriages. The impact this accident has had on my family has not stopped. It continues each and every day. The sad thing is that none of this had to happen. All of this was the result of drunk driver who first of all, made the wrong decision to drink, and then made a doubly wrong decision to get behind the wheel. And what is ironic is the fact that the very thing my mom and dad spoke against so frequently (drinking and driving) is what killed them. Why is it that sometimes it takes something terrible to happen in order for something positive to take place? The drunk driver who ran the stop sign and crashed into my parents' car did not just choose to drink that one day. His blood alcohol level was over four times the legal limit. One can only tolerate that high level of alcohol by building a tolerance for it over time. He was charged and convicted of two counts of involuntary manslaughter. When he was released from prison a few months early due to good behavior, my brothers and I had mixed feelings about this. We did not feel that he should remain prison if he truly was rehabilitated. No amount of prison time would bring Mom and Dad back. We knew and accepted that. And, after all, he had a family and needed to get back to them and back into the workforce to support them. But, what guarantees would there be? We wanted there to be assurances that he truly was rehabilitated ... that he would never do to anyone else's family what he did to our family. As of today after eight years, he has remained sober, he has kept his family together, and he is employed. This is the best outcome that we could have hoped and prayed for ... he was able to get his life together ... for not only himself, but also for his family. Over the past eight years, I have had a roller coaster of emotions. As unlikely as it sounds, I have definitely found, though, that there are blessings that have resulted from this tragedy. One of the greatest blessings I have become aware of as an adult is that of sincere appreciation ... thankful that my parents loved my brothers and me unconditionally and gave us a solid foundation in life ... and in faith ... a faith in God that never wavers. | 
