On March 26, 2001 I got a phone call that would rock my world for years to come. Still does. It was my sister Sara. All she said was “mom needs to talk to you” and handed mom the phone. Patrick was getting ready to walk out the door to work, I grabbed his arm and asked him to wait a minute. I explained that mom was crying. He, of course, waited. Mom said “yeah, you’ll need him there with you.” Then she choked out that my brother had been killed in a car accident. Needless to say, it’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to live through. He had just turned 20 years old on March 2.
March 2008 marked the 7th anniversary of his death and let me tell you, it doesn’t get easier. “They” say time heals all wounds. I say “they” have never lost a brother.
I’ve been meaning to update this page for over a year. Maybe one of these days.
