January 22, 1992

Two posts in one day! Drew is home tonight and not tomorrow night, so I am going to take advantage of the time and post tonight what I was going to post tomorrow. Make sense?

I guess you can tell by now why this date is so significant in my life. Seventeen years ago I walked into my bedroom and found my sister dead on my bed. I could tell as soon as I turned on the light that she was gone. This day is etched into my memory.

I was in my second year in college at Texas Wesleyan. I went to school in the mornings and worked at Montgomery Ward in the evenings. I was home in between school and work. My sister was home sick. She looked horrible. She was sitting in the recliner watching t.v. I was only home for a short time. We must have spoken to each other~ I don't remember. The last thing I remember saying to her, on my way out the door, was, "You're not that sick. Stop moping around." Then I left for work.

We were in the process of taking inventory at work. If you have ever worked retail at inventory time you know what a big deal it is. I was not scheduled to work the floor that evening, I was only working inventory. After a couple of hours of working I had the urge to go home. I didn't know why, I just wanted to leave. I didn't. I worked my scheduled time which was until about 6:00.

When I got home, about 6:30, all the lights were out in the house. A friend of mine (We will just call him a friend at this time. That is a post for another day. If you know who I am talking about, you know what I mean!) lived next door. He met me at the driveway and said that my dog was out earlier and our front door was open. He put Murphey inside and walked to the back of the house. He said that Jamie was asleep on my bed and all the lights were out. He left Murphey inside and went back out through the front door. I thought that was strange. He walked in with me and I began turning on the lights. When I turned on my bedroom light I saw her laying on the bed. I immediately knew from her coloring that things weren't good.

I picked up the phone and dialed 911. They started asking me all sorts of questions. They asked me if she was breathing. I told them that I couldn't touch her, but I didn't think so. I don't know how long I was on the phone. The next thing I remember are the paramedics knocking on the door. They came in and went back to my room. They had the door shut so I couldn't see what was going on. After a while, I don't know how long, they came out and said she was dead. They asked where my mom was. I had already tried to call her at work and she had already left. This was before everyone had cell phones so we just had to wait until she got home.

I remember that I called my dad, who lived in Waco at the time. As soon as he got on the phone I said, "Jamie is dead." That is all I could say. I think someone took the phone away from me and talked to him. I don't remember what all happened after that. I remember being questioned by the police. I remember walking around the house noticing that she had thrown up several places on the floor. There was just a flurry of activity. I remember my mom driving up and being met at the door by some police men. I remember her hugging me and telling me she loved me. Everything after that is a big blur. We had her funeral three days later and she was buried in Oklahoma in the country cemetery down the road from my grandparent's house.

I don't know how we survived those first few days. I guess you just go through the motions and put one foot in front of the other. We didn't talk about her much afterwards. The pain was just too deep. To lose someone so young with so much life to live just seems so wrong.

An autopsy was performed and her death was ruled pneumonia. This still baffles me to this day. How does a seemingly healthy 21 year old die of pneumonia? She had only been sick for a day. It doesn't make sense to me and probably never will.

Being a mom, I don't know how my mom survived afterwards. I know she had the support of friends at work. She had her family. She was so much stronger than I ever knew.

Just typing this is freeing. I want people to know that Jamie was my sister and that she had a life. I don't want to forget her. Although we don't talk about her much, I think of her often.

I had reservations about posting this. I don't want to seem like "Debbie Downer, " but I believe everyone has a story. I believe everyone has events in their life that shape who they are. This is part of my story. This is one of the events in my life that helps me appreciate my kids and my family. This helps me remember not to take one single day for granted. I will remember this date, January 22, 1992, for the rest of my life.