Love Notes

Chapter 12

I obviously did not physically kill my Mom or my Grandfather. Logically I know this. Logically my dad knows this, however that logic couldn't bring him to look me in the eye when he came into the hospital room to see me after it happened. Or at the funeral or memorial masses, or just about any time we spoke about them.

In his mind, if I didn't need to be somewhere that day, nobody would have been in the car, we would never have been hit by a truck, and my Mom and Grandfather would still be here. Living.

I was only eleven when they died.

I had a violin recital that day, we were running a little late. Sarah and Dad were meant to come too but Sarah was running a fever so they stayed behind. I was so excited to have my grandfather there to watch me, he was going to see the result of all the work he poured into me over the years and I was beyond excited.

We were only a few minutes behind, Mom said she could catch up and get us there on time and not to worry as she smiled at me through her rear view mirror. She loved to watch me perform. No doubt she would be recording me up there on stage, tears in her eyes making them sparkle.

At some point along the way she missed a stop sign. A pick up truck coming from our left side hit the front of our car. I don't really remember it all, just that lots of people came to help. At some point I was with a strange woman at the back of an ambulance while paramedics worked on my grandfather. I couldn't see my Mom.

When we got to the hospital they put me in a room on my own and checked me over, but bar a few cuts and bruises I was fine. So I figured my Mom and Grandfather were too. I waited and waited for my Mom to walk in and check on me.

When my Dad finally came into the room I knew he had been crying. He just blurted it out. "They're dead Izzy". I can still hear him say it. Still hear his voice break. The sound of his sobbing haunts me.

My Mom had pretty much died on impact and my Grandfather died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital from internal bleeding. The only thing that saved me was my placement in the car. The right hand side, in the back. I think about that all the time. Had I got in the other side of the car, had i begged my Pop Pop to let me sit up front like I normally did...I'd be with them. Everyone said I was lucky... I didn't feel it though.

For months the remainder of our family moved through this thick black fog, our whole world was dark. Finding any kind of normal was impossible, every single bit of our life changed.

We took Sunday visits to their grave. One Sunday, several months after they passed, my Dad had been having a particularly rough week.
That's when he said it, he turned to me, tears running down his face and he said
"I can't help but blame you for this Isobel. They should be here and they're not because you wanted to go to that damn recital."

That was it, our relationship was never the same again. Sarah was like a mediator at times, ensuring communications between us. Of course he took care of me and made sure I had everything I needed physically, but emotionally, the difference between Sarah and I was clear.

I tried everything to win him back. I never caused trouble at school, I was always home on time, no drugs, no drinking, no boys creeping around. I worked hard thinking this would all mean something to him, but it didn't.

The older I got, the harder it was to come back from, I stopped trying to get his attention, I stayed with friends as much as I could, did extra classes, got a part time job. Anything that meant I was in that house as little as possible.
I'm sure he was happy when I finally moved out at nineteen. He didn't have to avoid entering rooms incase he had to engage with me anymore.

Now we're civil when we see each other. Ask the expected questions, give the expected responses. He checks in on me by telling Sarah when I haven't been around for awhile or called and then she guilts me until I visit him again. We follow that pattern and that's just how we get by.