The Cemetery, but I know Dan isn't here

DISCLAIMER:  This post may be too graphic toward the end, in describing events at the hospital for some people.  Please do not read this post, if it will cause emotional pain for you.  It is not the intent.

About an hour north of Oshkosh is the town of Shawano.  It sits on Wolf Lake and is the town where Dan was born on August 16, 1951, and where he passed away on August 5, 2006.

This is the physical destination of my current trip, but I know that he is not here.

Writing about death and cemeteries is not something that I want to do.  I want to write encouraging things for empowerment in life.  I want to make you laugh and brighten your day.  How am I doing so far?

It is said that you have to be sad sometimes to know how good you feel when you are happy.  (ha)

Woodlawn is a very old cemetery and there are mega, hundreds, maybe even a million headstones.  During my visit, I was reminded about the day I was casually talking to my Mom on the phone.

I asked her if she had a nice weekend and she said, "Oh, yes.  It was really nice.  Your Dad and I went to DuBois to the cemetery and we found some headstones that we have been looking for."

You see, this is what a genealogy hobby can do to a person.  They loved walking through cemeteries.  Me, not so much.

In addition to having MANY and varied stone markers, they seemed to all be facing different directions!  In Newton Cemetery, all of the markers are facing the same way and you can look for names, most times without getting out of your car.  Not so with this place.

There is a beautiful chapel in the midst of the graves.  It was built in the early 1900's and honors the men who served our country in the military.

Just outside of the chapel are benches that people can use to sit and contemplate, pray (because the chapel isn't always open) and just be quiet.

Each bench has the insignia of a branch of the service.  Which bench do you think I chose?  Remember from my earlier post?  In which branch of the service did Dan serve?  You must be paying attention.... there will be a test.  (ha)

He absolutely LOVED his time in the Marine Corps.  Yes, that is the one I chose.  Even though I am the daughter of, the mother of and the wife of Army Veterans, at this point in time, I had to choose the USMC.  Semper Fi

After driving down one road and the next in Woodlawn, I realized I would need Dan's sister's help.  Now, here is a story for you, that you may not believe, but it is the absolute truth...

The day before my visit here, I sent a text message to my former sister-in-law.  The text told her that I would be going to the cemetery in the morning and could she help me to better locate the graves by giving me a street address.  The text message went unanswered.

Many years ago, Dan had brought me here to visit his dad's grave and that of his infant brother, Andy.  I thought I knew a vicinity to look, but no luck.  Then, out of all these hundreds of graves I saw the name Lee Gerhard who had passed in 1980.  I knew this man!

Lee, whom Dan called "Bear", was talked about many times.  He had "unofficially" adopted Dan when he was a teenager because he had a few sons of his own (I think 4) and they lived close enough that Dan was always at their house.  Dan thought the world and all of Bear.  A happy memory, but still not my first husband's grave.

When I got back to my car, low and behold (the part you may not believe) I had a text asking if I was able to locate the graves.  She couldn't give me a street name for the location, but said that she would come and show me, as they were not far from the cemetery and had the rest of the day free.

While I waited and was sitting on the USMC bench, I had time to talk a bit to Dan.  (again, is this weird?)  Remember I can't talk one on one to a person, so I guess, not looking at him, I was finally able to say some things that I wished could have been said, so that he would understand them, in person years ago.

I read through some old journal writings that I had with me and realized what I came here to tell him what that I was so sorry.

I was sorry that the drunk driver had hurt him and I didn't just ask him to come to bed that night.

I was sorry that we didn't have more than 15 years of marriage before the accident.

I was sorry that during the eleven years following the accident, my witness to him and my care giving wasn't enough to help him through his depression and pain.

I was sorry that I betrayed him by leaving him alone on July 27, 2000.

I was sorry that I wasn't strong enough to live with him day to day.

I was sorry that he refused to go to counseling with me to save our marriage.

I was just plain sorry for what he had been put through in life.
=========caution======
Brain injured people have different and varied quirks but one of the things that Dan believed was that somehow, I conspired with the woman who hurt him because I wanted him out of my life.  He blamed me for letting him lay on the road that night.  He believed that I wanted him dead.

Hurtful as that sounds, I could logically understand that, were he in his right mind, he would know that was not true.

Dan was in a coma for two and half weeks.  The woman who hit him did stop and seek help, but it took a while to get help there.

In 1989 there were no cell phones and all the phones in houses were connected by wires to the land line.  So she and her husband banged on a couple doors until finally someone let them in to call 911.

What happened was this:  Dan closed up the store we owned at 9:00 pm.  He came home and upstairs where I was reading in bed.  He said he was going out for his nightly "constitutional" and went to kiss our girls good night.

I heard them giggling and then it was quiet.  I rolled over and went to sleep (so you see I was not part of the conspiracy) and was awakened about an hour and half later by a knock on our kitchen door.

It was our neighbor, Nancy, who told me that Dan had been hit by a car.  We stood in the doorway and she asked to pray.  At this time I was thinking perhaps he had a broken bone but I knew everything would be ok.

Immediately, I called my Mom and Dad so that someone could come sit with the kids while I went to pick up Dan at the ER.

After that, my doctor called on the phone.  (Oh to have caring doctors like this today)  He said that he heard that Dan had been taken to the hospital and he was sure that he would be well taken care of.  However, if there was a bigger issue, he would meet me at the ER.

My Mom stayed with the girls and Dad drove me to the hospital.  I remember the night as if it was yesterday because the weather was crystal clear.  So balmy and not a cloud in the sky.  I remember looking at the moon and thinking, Bailey Lane, where he was walking, was mostly deserted, especially at that time of night.  How could a car have hurt him?  How could this happen?

We arrived at the hospital and I was met by a nurse who told me that I could not go back to where Dan was and that Dr. Schell would be out shortly to talk with me.  I was escorted to a small room and told to wait.  I started to realize that this must be more serious than a broken bone, but I couldn't imagine what lay ahead.

Soon I saw Dr. Schell's familiar face, as he came into the room.  He was somber and I complained that they wouldn't allow me to see Dan.

He said, "That's because Dan is not himself right now.  You wouldn't want to see him until they get him stable."

He went on to say that in his opinion it was very critical and that I should call my pastor because he couldn't guarantee that Dan would live through the night.  They were going to life flight him to the trauma center in Danville.

I suppose I was in shock because all these things were just words.  I couldn't understand what was happening, let alone believe this was happening.  It must be a dream... I had to wake up from this dream because I didn't like it.

But it was not a dream.

Soon I called my pastor who came to be with us.

Then Dr. Schell escorted me back into the room where Dan was being treated.  Even today, I can't hold back the tears, remembering.

I'm sorry.... please stop reading, if this bothers you.  I only wish I could stop writing about it, but I can't.  I have to take it out of my head and put it in print.  There HAS to be a reason, that I know not, for me to be compelled to write Dan's story.  This is his story, not mine.

Maybe you have been through something similar and you will not feel alone, now.  I have no idea why this needs to be written.  God knows.

The ER was pretty well open at that time, but as I remember it, the gurney where Dan was laying was the only thing in the room.  I nearly didn't recognize him with all the wires and breathing tubes and neck brace, etc.

I was weak in my knees, the doctor was holding onto my arm.  I went closer to his side and noticed blood from his ear and blood on his face and blood all over.  His blood.  My husband's blood.

Putting my hand to my mouth, I whispered, "Wash his face, please wash his face."

The doctor calmly said, "They will wash him soon.  We had too many other things to deal with right now as they are prepping him for the life flight to the trauma center in Danville. But he is being well cared for."

Perhaps this is harder for me than the reader because I lived through it.  My next post should not be as sad as this and again, I'm sorry to make public something so difficult.  I just feel like it needs to be written and I try to listen to that inner voice of mine.

"Always Leave Them Laughing" is a 1949 musical comedy-drama film, starring Milton Berle.  I agree with the premise, so, how can I leave you laughing?

Here is how.... As I watched the helicopter leave Mt. Nittany, I thought how very angry Dan was going to be (and he could get angry) when he woke up and realized that he slept through a helicopter ride.  (ha)

By the way, I was right about that.

Putting down my writing until tomorrow probably.  The memorial service will be at 10:30 am Central time.  I'm off to get some Oshkosh B'Gosh outfits for my grands.

The Real Cathy