The Day that Changed My Life Forever

The month was August in the year 1989. We were out late on Sunday enjoying one of the only drive-in-movies that had survived the gambit of new fancy theaters. The summer sunrise was hazed, from the humid warm Sunday. While I was dressing, my daughter and my youngest son were sleeping in. I began my daily personal routine to make it to work on time.

My job was about ten miles from our home. I worked for a local cemetery as their secretary and had to be on time. The doors had to be open by eight a.m. My job was not only being their secretary, but I was also in charge of making arrangements for funerals. After making the office ready for business, my helper entered the office and we chatted for a short time to find out how our weekend had gone. Then the phone rang.

"Cumberland Valley Memorial Gardens, how many I help you."

There was a long pause.

"This is the Pennsylvania State Police. May I speak with Mrs. Wanda Shoap?"

"This is she. How may I help you?"

"Are you Kevin Farner's mother?"

"Yes."

"Your son Kevin has been in a motor cycle accident and has been taken to the Hershey Hospital by Life Line. Mam, you need to get to the hospital as soon as possible."

All I can remember after the call ended, was calling my husband at work and my two children at home, and telling them to be ready when I got home. When I reached home and waited for my husband, I called my ex-husband and told him what the State Police had told me. I asked if I could follow him and his wife to the Hershey Hospital, because I had never been there. It turned out to be the longest ride I had ever taken.

My other two children were ages thirteen and ten, so we asked our neighbors if they would mind watching them until we found out what Kevin's condition was. When we got to the Hospital, they told us that our son was not brought there but, had been taken to the York Hospital Trauma Center. That meant another two-hour drive. I was frantic.

While I was driving, my thoughts drifted to Sunday. It was the day that Kevin and his friend Rob had come back from their vacation in Ocean City, MD. Kevin called us around noon, stating that they had ran out of gas and had no money to get any. We then met them at the Cross Roads Restaurant about five miles from our home and took them enough gas to get them to the local gas station. When he finally made it, home we joked with him about them running out of gas. Then I told him we were going to the drive-in and asked him to come along with us. He thought for a short time and then stated that he was going to take his cycle and meet up with his friends over at the drive-in. I said to him that he could not ride his motor cycle after twelve o'clock so he should go with us. He told us that he would not be on the cycle after twelve and that his best friend would haul it on his truck after the movies were over.

"Well, we all missed you while you were gone so please come spend some time with us at the movies." He thought again for a time but declined to go along with us.

On our way to the York Hospital, the hours passed slowly. I kept thinking, what if we get lost and we don't make it to the hospital in time. What if he's hurt badly and he dies before any of us get there? My husband kept telling me everything would be fine and to try not to worry, that we would get there soon, that Kevin was probably only suffering from a few broken bones. He was always very careful when he was on his motor cycle and always wore his helmet, so of course he would be sore, maybe with a few broken bones and cut up some, but he'd be fine.

When we finally got there and entered the emergency room, we waited for only a short while until a Doctor came out. He took us to a private family room. About ten minutes later another Doctor entered the room. I don't even remember his name, but he told us that Kevin was in very serious condition. They had to sew his tongue back on and they had to set several bones. He lost consciousness and he had serious damage to his head and chest areas. We waited. The Doctor came back into the room again and told us that they had to put him on a ventilator and other life support systems. His brain had swollen and now his eyes were fixed and said Kevin was in a coma.

I started to feel sick. My gut was turning inside out. My brain could not deal with what my ears had just heard. I got out of my chair and left the room, walked toward the exit doors and fumbled my way to the outside area. My legs almost went out from underneath me, so I sat on a nearby concrete bench. My husband held me as I fought back the tears.

"Oh, My God!"

It wasn't real. They were wrong. It's not my son in there. Oh, My God.

Standing by his bed, all I could do, was watch my son. "I stood there, watching him, breathe." He didn't look like he was not hurt that bad. "He'll be fine." I kept telling myself. "I'll hold his hand. I'll talk to him and he'll open his eyes." We were there all night. My husband, my father and I. I couldn't sleep. I kept going to his side to check on him. There was no change. I asked for a priest to come and Baptize Kevin. As the priest was praying over Kevin, I held his limp cool hand in mine. I wanted so much for him to give my hand a squeeze but all I noticed was a broken rhythm in his breathing. I elbowed my husband so he could see it. He just shook his head and lowered his eyes.

When the sun came up the Doctor told us that Kevin was brain dead. That we should get the rest of the family together and say our last good-bye. They also wanted us to consider organ donations so Kevin could help others to live.

"No Way!"

"No way in Hell!"

Then my husband pulled me over to another part of the room and stated that Kevin and he had talked about him being a donor, and that Kevin had also place it on his driver's licenses.

" I can't let them do it."

"I just can't, let them cut him up."

"I won't do it!"

Then my daughter came over and said, "Mom, it's what Kevin would have wanted. He told me that if anything ever happened, that is what he wanted done, to help someone else live."

I left the room and went down to the hospital chapel. I sat there. I was like stone. My brain was numb. I couldn't even pray. I didn't know how to. I didn't want to tell them they could do this. I hated God. What had I done so horribly that God would take my son from me? Why? Kevin just turned seventeen in May. He had his whole life in front of him. He was healthy and very handsome. He wasn't bad. He doesn't deserve to die like this. So why, God?

We buried my son Kevin on August eleventh, just three short months after his seventeenth birthday. Just a few days after he had returned from his vacation. I put a beautiful red rose on his chest- as my whole body trembled. I saw what looked like a teardrop on the corner of his right eyelid. I could not cry. The anger was gone but I shut myself off from life and from all that were around me. I kept my head high and hid my sorrow deep within my soul. I wore black every day.

I sat in that office, at the place where I worked and saw my son's grave. I could not function. I could not take my eyes off my son's grave. I hid my emotions from every person that came up to me and tried to comfort me. I'd sit for hours after work, at his grave and read the Bible. I couldn't find any comfort. I was empty inside. My firstborn son was gone and there was nothing I could do to end the nightmare. In time, I learned to cry in secret, when everyone was gone and I was alone. I didn't want anyone to know how broken I was inside.

The motor cycle sat in our back yard covered with a black tarp. It was there for years. I could not part with it. I still have not been able to part with the blood stained blue jeans that he had on that day. My husband and his family changed his room so that I would not have to see it when I want to do the laundry. His bedroom used to be in the basement. On the ceiling, when I take a black-light and shine it, I can read in his hand writing, Kevin-N-Brandy. It's still there to this day. I won't let anyone paint over it.

That was nineteen years ago. Since that day I've grown. I've found God again. I found the God I've always looked for but could never really find before.

God teaches me each and every day through his scriptures. That life has to go on. That Kevin was not taken because I did something to anger God. That Kevin was not taken because he was a sinner or that Kevin was taken because- I had not been able to pray to God while he was dying. That there was nothing anyone could have done to keep Kevin from living his life, as he lived it while he was here.

I also learned that the lives that Kevin's donations saved were worth all the sorrow that I suffered. I listened to my son's needs and forgot about my own, in a time when I knew my life would never be the same again. Since that day our family has grown so much stronger and we're all thankful that through Kevin's death, we've truly found God.

We feel His grace and His arms that carry us through all our woes.

"God and Kevin are inside each and every one of our souls."

Ecclesiastes 3

There's a time to be born and a time to die.

There's a time to weep and a time to mourn.

My quote, "There is never a time to be without God."

This is a true story. Thanks for reading and please feel free to leave me a message!