Photo by Brigi Uhrin on Unsplash
The night I faced my worst imaginable fear
Daylight Saving Time ends. Darkness begins.
November.
I’ve never really liked November. The colourful leaves have dropped, and the sun has lost its warmth.
My best friend from university died in a car crash in November.
My granddaughter of 7 months died of SIDS in November.
That day was just 2 years ago.
It is etched in my memory.
I got the call at work. Actually, I got two calls—one from my neighbour and the other from my husband.
Both told me I had to get home immediately.
My neighbour explained that something serious had happened to my granddaughter. He did not want to give details.
“Tell me!” I ordered.
“Your granddaughter has passed away.”
My legs went limp.
My husband picked me up from work, afraid that I would not be able to drive the 35 minutes home on my own.
He drove like a madman. It was the longest drive of my life.
I begged God to bring her back to life. I begged Him to perform a miracle.
My quiet, dark country neighbourhood was lit up by the swirling red lights of the police, ambulance, and fire trucks.
We pulled into our driveway but were denied access into our own home, where my daughter and grandchildren lived in the suite downstairs.
I held my husband’s arm as we walked across the road to our neighbour’s. Our daughter stood shivering in the cold. We wrapped our arms around her and wailed together as a family.
She begged me not to go indoors to see my granddaughter.
I had to.
The police officer opened the door and I entered their foyer.
There on the floor, I saw what looked like a doll. My little granddaughter stripped down to her diaper, lay supine. So tranquil. So still.
Through streaming tears, I asked to hold her.
He shook his head. They still needed to investigate, do an autopsy.
I would never hold her again.
I stepped back into the cold night, away from the shell of a body that was my grandbaby.
I felt a palpable sense of loss. A profound pain that I’ve never experienced before.
That day was November 12th, 2019.
Once again, Daylight Saving Time ends. Darkness begins.
November.
The images return to haunt me on my drive home. Turning into our quiet neighbourhood, the nightmare flashes in front of my eyes.
Will I ever be free of harrowing memories?
I pray to God and He gives me peace beyond understanding. He reminds me that I will once again see her in heaven. He gives me hope.
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