When the 911 call strikes far too close to home..

[flucas]

I have been a 911 dispatcher for my local county sheriff's office for about 2.5 years.  During my short time at this department, I've heard everything from the mundane complaints to the unimaginable tragedies.  However, the tradgedy I dealt with on a daily basis never struck close to home until July 23rd, 2013.  I reported to work at approximately 3pm that day.  It was a Tuesday summer afternoon and it was my last work day before my "weekend."  I was feeling as if I was on top of the world.  I had a stable income doing a job I felt was rewarding, I had a loving boyfriend I had just moved in with, and that day I was stationed next to my best work-friend "J."  As I prepared myself for the day ahead-- the violent domestics, the traffic complaints, the fender benders, and the suicide attempts -- I thought, despite what I hear, today will be a good day.  And as I do everyday, I closely examined the calls on the screen in order to be aware of what was going on as I took over the shift.

 

I saw a single call that would change my life, forever.  And I didn't even know it then.

 

I think we had maybe been there for an hour when the room began to buzz.  The Sheriff himself had been seen walking into our supervisor's office.  We are a very large department.  In fact, this was the first time I'd been on the same floor as the Sheriff since he had first sworn me into service in October 2011.  I began to panic.  "Is my desk clean enough? I think I just said a curse word!"  I confessed to my best friend J.  She assured me I was fine and told me I should just keep busy.  And that I did, in between answering phone calls.  Until they called J into the supervisor's office, where not only the Sheriff sat, but the patrol Sergeant, and the Chaplain.  My heart began to race.  What had she done?  What happened?  I could hardly concentrate, I was so worried.  She was in there for only a few minutes, and then she reappeared at her console, looking for her phone.  "Why?? What's the problem?" I pleaded, wondering what they could possibly want from her phone.  Was I in trouble too?  We had become very close.  We talked a lot, about work and everything in between.  What would they want with her phone?  She said she couldn't answer me, and went back into the office. My heart beat faster.

 

It felt like hours, but was probably only minutes.  Finally, J came back out of the office, and told me to come back to the conference room with her.  The supervisor, Sergeant, Chaplain, and Sheriff were already walking that way.  Again, I begged, "What is it?? Am I in trouble?"  All I got was, "No... You're not in trouble."  I was shaking, confused, and scared.  I was convinced that they were going to fire me.  Fire me for what?  It didn't matter.  The Sheriff doesn't just show up like this, asking to see phones.

 

When I entered the conference room, everyone was standing except for J and the Chaplain.  The Chaplain asked me to take a seat.  I remember looking around at everyone, trying to find anything, any hint I could discern from their faces.  I knew it was serious, and at that moment expected to find myself jobless.  Oh, if only it were that.  I sat down and met eyes with the Chaplain.  He started speaking the words, "Your sister, _____ ____, was involved in a car accident," and immediately the call I had seen when I had first sat down for work today flashed before my eyes.  My sister was dead.  My beautiful, sweet sixteen year old sister was dead.

 

All that I remember at that moment was complete shock.  I couldn't speak.  I don't think I could even cry.  I just remember letting out sounds I've never heard myself make before.  At some point I began to mutter words, with an audience of supervision and brass, but only to myself.  I was crying, "Why? Why, God, why?!" over and over, despite the fact that I am not religious.  I thought back to the last text I had sent my sister and I cried all over again for that reason alone.  I had told her I was done.  Done with her lying to me about the petty things 16 year old girls do.  My last words weren't "I love you."  They weren't telling her how much she meant to me, raising her as if she wasn't just my baby sister, but my child.  No mention of how thankful I was for her always being there for me when everyone else had turned their backs.  Guilt set in almost as immediately as the loss did.  Almost as if it were one in the same.  I never got a chance to say goodbye and my last words echoed into the abyss.

 

Eventually I got the courage during this "meeting" to ask, "Was she alone? Was she driving?"  Yes, she was alone that day. She was a new driver with a junk SUV that needed all sorts of work.  It had rained a bit that Tuesday afternoon as she was leaving our mother's house.  They said the road was wet as she went around a sharp curve in the country road.  She lost control.  The SUV hit the gaurdrail and she was ejected.  Two of our deputies were on their way to work at the jail when they happened upon the accident.  They found her in the road, unconcious, and attempted life-saving measures until the medics arrived.  She was pronounced dead at the scene at approximately 2:30pm.  I was on my way to work at that time, completely unaware of the absolute horror ahead of me.

 

Of course, the horror didn't stop there.  Because I was an employee of the sheriff's office, I was the first family member notified.  Which then meant that I was responsible for notifying everyone else.  At work, I collected my belongings and waited for my boyfriend, who had received a call and been instructed to call off from his job as a police officer, to pick me up.  The Chaplain and a deputy cruiser escorted me to my mother's house.  On the way there, there was an extremely heavy weight pressing down on me.  I felt as if I was carrying pure sadness and toxin, and I had no choice but to release it on my mother.

 

We arrived at her house and I walked inside, with the deputies trailing behind me.  "Mom..."  my voice was shaky.  "What? What is it?!" She knew something horrible had happened.  "Please sit down," I tried in the living room.  She wouldn't.  All I could do was say, "____ was in an accident," and she knew.  She unraveled, right there in my arms.  I had to hold my mother up as she screamed, just like I had screamed only minutes before, but I had to be strong for her.  This lasted for what felt like an eternity.  I still hear it now.  One of the worst moments of my life was telling my mother that her daughter was dead.  After the chaos had somewhat subsided, I had to do it all over again with our other sister, ____.  This time I was able to say, "_____ was in an accident, she is gone."  With every word it became more real, and with every word I hated myself for bringing that pain upon my family.

[Heartlight]

 

The horror at losing a loved one suddenly added with the horror of having to tell your mom (and others)

 

My horror at losing my sister...  I was at work and got a call from her husband who blurted it in my ear.  Moments later, when I finally believed him, I dropped to my knees with a blood-curdling scream.

 

I told my dad.  My dad had to tell my mom.  She also knew when she saw his face.

 

It has been 5 years since that day and still the memory of that day could take me down if I let it.

 

There's something that I have learning during all this time, and during the losses that have happened since then (most significantly my dad, 2 years ago), that there is this thing that I'm calling the "death trauma".

 

I have not been able to find any reference to it but I know it is a real thing.  People talk to me about it, they don't call it the death trauma, they just talk about their trauma, even years later sometimes.

 

What the death trauma is (as I'm calling it), is those first moments of what was our normal life fracturing.  What this looks like is, in our own minds, personally playing those moments over and over again that hold the biggest trauma for us.  Whether it was the moment of being told, as it was for me for my sister, or some other moment (my death trauma for my dad was not the moment I was told, it was from one day earlier).  You find yourself wanting to talk about those moments, or that day, or this particular event that was the life fracturing moment for you and sometimes we can't because we don't have anyone close enough to let into this terrible trauma we're holding inside.

 

The support 'manuals' say that a person will want to tell the story.  It's more than that, in my experience.  On a personal level, our particular death trauma can stop us from having any kind of healthy thought, can in fact influence very destructive thoughts.

 

(softly)  Because you know that this was not your fault.  And in your most tenderest times that you can manage to give yourself, I know that you know that.

 

But the horror of that day - the completely understandable horror of that day - has a loop of pain that sometimes doesn't let us reach those tender parts very often.

 

If it were me, and I can only express what I would do, I would curl up next to my mom and tell her that I'm sorry for hurting her.  I know I've just said that you can logically know that it's not your fault; however, it IS how you feel.  You love your mom and hate yourself for bringing her that news.  Grieving is, as I have learned, about honouring your feelings.  So honour this one and go and tell your mom how sorry you are.  Part of grieving is mourning, the expression of your grief.  Maybe by expressing it, you will learn how/where/why these feelings are so very prevalent right now.

 

The trauma is so very different from the loss.  The loss we will live with forever and the process of grieving looks different for each of us.  The trauma is something we can actually work at helping ourselves through by being understanding towards ourselves when we are struck by it.  Sometimes, like it was for my aunt, just speaking it to another person can help.  Sometimes, like it was for me, it takes longer.  But knowing that it is real and recognizing that it was natural for us to feel that trauma, can help us through some of the very bad moments.

 

I know it isn't easy.  Please be gentle with yourself.  It sounds like you had two traumas, the trauma point at the loss of your sister and the traumatized/in shock/fractured you also having an empathetic experience of holding of your mother during her trauma point.

 

I found, when I was first dealing with the trauma and initial loss of my sister, that some counselling sessions helped.  Maybe your work has a program you can get some through?  I also used to work with law enforcement and my experience is they have some good access, I hope you look into that where you work.

 

Be gentle with yourself.  You have been through a great trauma.

 

<3