My Babydoll is gone.
by Terry Turner
June 25, 2013. She drives my truck to town for a doctor's appointment. She stops at the pharmacy to fill a prescription afterwards.
On her way home, something goes wrong. She slips off the right side of the road, clips a mailbox, and tries to correct. She goes left of center and hits another vehicle head-on.
Bang. She's dead at the scene, essentially at the point of impact.
Broad daylight. Perfect weather, nice and dry. Bright sunshine. Not using her cell phone. No mechanical issues with the truck. Just bang.
The guy in the other vehicle is OK after a couple days in the hospital -- thank God! But my Babydoll is gone, and I'll never know why.
It hurts more than I know how to say.
The word "disconnect" has gotten to be one of my favorites. I'm having a really rough time reconciling the before with the after. I've always had faith that there is some "why" connected with every event. But I don't see the "why" for this one. My wife was probably the worst driver I've ever known, but she had managed to muddle through for 32 years without getting herself killed. She wasn't any worse than usual on June 25. But that Tuesday, thanks to some horrendous error -- by all accounts, her error -- she died just four miles from her front door.