I was in the back seat of the car when some idiot crashed into us. He had come round a corner too fast and had come over onto our side of the road. We were 100% not to blame but innocent or guilty you end up just as dead don’t you. You cannot say to St Peter, “It wasn’t my fault” and get sent back to Earth!
Mum and Dad in the front seats never had a chance. Luckily I
don't remember much about the accident and the doctors say that I never will. I
do remember blue flashing lights and being lifted from the wreckage and the
screen they put between me and the front of the car. I think I guessed then
that Mum and Dad were dead. I don't remember going to hospital in the ambulance
but do remember arriving. A bit later Nan and Granddad came in and as soon as I
saw them I knew Mum and Dad had been killed. Grandparents then left for a
short while and I prayed and prayed that I would die to so I could be
with them but of course I didn't.
Once the news sunk in I wanted to
see their bodies, just to say goodbye really. But I wasn’t allowed to. I was
told that their bodies were too badly damaged for me to even see them, never
mind being allowed to touch them or to be with them on my own. This “rule”,
that I later found out wasn’t even true, seems like a horribly cruel thing to
make up but that is exactly what Granddad did. I suppose this was Granddad
trying to protect me but knowing him I bet that some of it was also about him
wanting to be in charge.
A little while
later Mum’s sister came to see me and she asked if it would be OK for her to
wash Mum and Dad’s faces and brush and tidy their hair. I will always be
grateful that my aunt looked after Mum and Dad bodies for me when I wasn't able
to. I hope they both realised that I would have done it myself if it had
Leaving the hospital, knowing that Mum and Dad were in the morgue,
was almost the hardest part of those first few weeks. I just wanted to escape
but at the same time I felt I was deserting them and leaving them to the care
of strangers who didn’t know and love them like I did.
Gran and Granddad never
forgave me for allowing my aunt to get involved. They thought it was their job
to look after my Mum's body. Over the months that followed Nan and Granddad
used to bring this problem up quite often as proof of how ungrateful and
disrespectful I was towards them. There has never been any mention of Dad in
their grumbles so I expect they would have left him with blood and oil on his
face and hair like a tramp. They obviously didn’t care about him.