5-15-12 ~6:00am (T-3 Hours)

It is early, too damn early. It's still dark outside, sun won't be coming up for another half hour, hour. Getting the kids and husband ready for school, checking on all the animals, getting myself ready for work. Tired; I hate these early meetings. Getting my lunch ready, stomach's been upset so I have plain food, hard boiled eggs, buttered bread slices, bottle of milk. My one vice, my soda that I have to have every day even though it's not good for me.

~6:30am (T-2.5 Hours)

Drop the kids and the husband off at the school. There's a presentation/concert thing that I won't be able to go to because I have to work and the school didn't give us two weeks notice which I have to have to take time off. I tell my husband to record it. And he says he will. He tells me he loves me, and the kids grunt something that might be "I love you", or might be "I mug you". It's too damn early.

~7:30am (T-1.5 Hours)

The meeting starts, and like always it is boring as hell and I try to keep from falling asleep during it. I had gotten there early anyway, and almost napped in the car waiting for the meeting room to open. I can't even remember what the meeting was about, though I think I can only blame part of that on boredom and tiredness, especially in light of what happened later.

~8:30am (T-30 Minutes)

We all leave out at once, of course. Like kids getting out of school, or Fred Flintstone when the end of day bell rings. One giant caravan hauling ass down the road. Everyone drives at their own pace of course; me, I usually drive too slow for most and see many people passing me. I remember seeing her car drive past, the license plate stands out in my mind. Her car was awesome, with a "Property of the Umbrella Corporation" sticker, and a "Raccoon City Parking Permit". Her license plate read "ZOMBGRL".

~8:45am (T-15 Minutes)

Traffic slows down greatly at the turn onto the main road into work, since it goes from a four lane highway to a two lane cut-through. The speed is posted, but few people follow it, as it is a long, straight, open road, with a lot of wilderness and very few businesses. For the first half of the road, the speed is 45 MPH, then it goes up to 55 MPH. Then, right at the entrance to work, just before a blind turn onto an even busier major four lane highway, it drops to 35 MPH. There are no turnouts or turn lanes for the shelter where we work, and turning in is always a little dicey normally. Add in semi trucks, cement trucks, and dump trucks going up to 75 MPH...

~8:55am (T-5 Minutes)

I know there's going to be a long line heading into the shelter, hopefully though, there won't be that much traffic. I'm really regretting not being able to get the time off to go to the kids' presentation. I'm still tired, and almost on auto-pilot. Almost, but not completely.

~9:00am (0 Hour)

I'm slowing down for the line when I hear a dull crash ahead, then an almost musical tinkling. 'Great,' I think to myself. 'There's been another accident.' It wouldn't be the first time, and it won't be the last time. The cars in front of me are pulling off to the side, and I follow suit. Then I catch sight of the accident. I see a car on the middle lane, crumpled and smoking, shimmers of glass all around it. For some reason, I still hear the tinkling, and the back of my mind tells me that it is the sound of shards of glass raining down.

I stop my car and open the door to jump out, but have to close it quickly as another car comes barreling down the road. I hear the driver slam on their brakes as they catch sight of the accident. Once the roadway is clear again, I jump out and start running. More of the scene seems to come into focus as I get closer, like how mangled the little car is. Like the fact that there is a dump truck sitting ON the little car. Like how there are at least four other cars in the ditch with crash damage.

~9:05am (T+5 Minutes)

One of my co-workers calls to me as I approach the smoking car. There is no glass in any of the windows. It is strewn around the crash scene in a fifteen foot radius as tiny glittering shards. I wonder why the sound of the crash was not bigger; where is the roar of screeching metal and the explosion as the car turns into a fireball. Why is the sound of falling glass louder than the crash? For that matter, why can I still hear falling glass? I wonder why I can't hear sirens yet. In movies, on TV, there are already sirens. "Can you tell who it is? Who is it?" Voices bring me back to reality. The car door is open, I can see very little, her arms crushed against the steering column, that's it, no identifying features that I can recognize.

"Who is it?" I wonder why they are asking me. How would I know some random stranger in a vehicle crash? But I look around and everyone who works at the shelter is gathering. They are in shock, they are crying, they are pale. I realize I should know who this is. This is one of us. I shake my head and back away. "I can't... I just can't..." I try to say more, but that is all that will come out. My supervisor motions me over and pulls me into a hug as I break down. "She's dead. We can't do anything right now." She pulls me over to where more people are coming out of the shelter, even as more co-workers are pulling up and onto the grassy area between the fence and the ditch. Then I hear a name.

I lose it. I start screaming, crying. I start hugging everyone, sobbing on their shoulders and blowing snot everywhere. I didn't cry this much when my grandfather passed, when my pets passed. But now, it is as if every loss I have ever felt was a pinprick of pain compared to this agony. I hear sirens. They are finally coming. I look across the street where they have pulled another co-worker out of his vehicle; he was unconscious at first, but they were able to wake him and get him out of his car, which is up against a tree with the front end crumpled. Another co-worker is getting out of her SUV, staggering slightly. There are two other pickup trucks, and our animal officers are there helping the drivers out of their vehicles.

~9:10am (T+10 Minutes)

"I don't know what happened. I looked down for five seconds and when I looked up it was five seconds too late... Oh my god, I ran over a car and I think the person in it is dead." He is on his phone, some cuts on his arms, in shock like the rest of us. He's wearing a county uniform. The dump truck on top of the little car is a county truck. One of our own, killed one of our own. It doesn't compute, not for a while. After all, why should it? We don't kill our own.

~9:15am (T+15 Minutes)

The police have closed off the road, and they are tending the wounded as best they can until the ambulances get there. A driver who wasn't involved in the accident comes up, trying to get to the crumpled car. "I'm a nurse, I just want to take her pulse." The officers pull her away. There is no need, and they know it. One of the other injured drivers, not one of us, starts screaming. "She's dead!? Is that person dead?!" The officers pull her away from the sight, trying to calm her down.

~9:20am (T+20 Minutes)

The ambulances arrive. One of the EMTs starts tending to the wounded. I want them to go to the car, to help her, but I know why they are not. Triage, help those you can immediately, leave those who you cannot help to last. Finally, another EMT goes to the crumpled car. He is only there for a short time before he goes into the back of the ambulance and brings out a white sheet. I lose it again; I think we all do. It is final now, no going back, no "just maybe"s. He gets as much pertinent information from the scene as he can before covering her with the sheet, then comes over asking who is in charge. None of us are really able to answer, but we don't have to. The interim director is a former law enforcement officer himself, so he is maintaining his calm better than us. Most of the officers with law enforcement training are.

"I am," he says. The EMT pulls him to the side and speaks with him quickly. Our director then speaks with some of the animal technicians; the ones she would know best, the ones who would have seen her that morning before the meeting. He nods to the EMT, then comes back to where the rest of us are standing. "It is her. She has a tattoo on her ankle, and only three of us have black cars. One driven by a male, the other driven by a black female. This is a white female. Also, her clothes match those she was wearing at the meeting." He takes a breath, then calls the supervisors together. "Call your staff, make sure everyone is here or otherwise accounted for. If they're not here, send them home."

~9:25am (T+25 Minutes)

The crisis counselors arrive with the county manager. He is talking to people, trying to comfort where he can, help where he can. It is not to be "visible" or to be "professional". He is there as a person, as one of us, and we all appreciate the sincerity he shows in his sorrow. The crisis counselors are doing the same. I am flipping out, again; I am beyond simple counseling right now. Vaguely, I remember thinking I needed to get to my car, to get my lunch and my purse. I made it about ten, maybe fifteen feet down the road and got lost. I got lost on the way to my own car, that was not more than fifty feet away from me on a straight, flat highway. One of my co-workers found me wandering down the road and brought me back to the group.

Someone passes out bottles of water, and I take one, even though I'm not thirsty. I even drink some, though it is like I'm on auto-pilot again. I keep trying to get up, and having to sit down again. I can't stop crying, and I feel like screaming even though I think I've lost my voice. My supervisor tells me that they are closing the shelter, and tells me to give her my keys. I do; I'm not safe right now.

~9:30am (T+30 Minutes)

One of our animal officers loads me into a vehicle and drives me home. I borrow his phone and call my husband. I tell him I'm on my way home. That there has been an accident, I'm okay, but someone else was hurt badly. I can't say that she is dead, I just can't. He tells me to give up my keys and I tell him they've already taken them from me. Then I realize my house keys are on that keyring. I ask him to meet me at the school, since I will need his keys to get inside. He says he will be there.

~10:00am (T+1 Hour)

We arrive at the school. I've actually managed to calm down. The officer turned had the radio off, I didn't realize it at the time, but I'm pretty sure it was so we wouldn't accidentally hear something that might set me off. I go inside as the officer waits for me. The presentation is just ending as I enter the lunchroom, and as my husband sees me he gets up and we go outside. He holds me, as I tell him a little. There was an accident, and someone, one of my co-workers, they died. Others were hurt. It was a county vehicle that did it. He holds me as we walk back to the car where the officer is waiting for me.

I'm worried about my lunch again all of a sudden, and my purse, and my van. But my husband can't ride in the county car because he's not an employee, and so the officer promises to either park my van in the staff lot, or bring it to me. My husband gives me his keys and tells me that he will be back after school gets out. Around 3-ish. I nod, he tells me to stay safe, and the officer drives me home.

~10:30am (T+1.5 Hour)

I just stare at the TV screen. The television is off. I don't want to see anything; I don't want to hear anything. I feel cold and wrap up in a blanket and lay down. My cats are worried. One, I'm not normally home right now, two, I'm not normally home alone, three, they just KNOW something is wrong. They come up and sit on me, purring and rubbing against me. I think I slept for a little bit, which I'll be thankful for later.

~11:00am (T+2 Hours)

My husband comes home early. He knows I need him. He just sits with me, talking is not what I want to do. He tells me that my daughter wanted to know why I was there, if I was sick. He told me that he told her, and that he will tell my son later, that "Mommy is very sad because someone was hurt at work today." I am thankful, but I don't know if I tell him that. There are a lot of blank spaces over the next few hours, and days.

~11:30am (T+2.5 Hours)

My husband turns the TV on to break the silence, just as the news come on with a blurb about the crash. I freak out and he rushes to turn the TV off and then holds me. The animal officer arrives at some point and drops off the van. So now he'll be able to get the kids and get back without having to walk for a few hours both ways.

~12:00pm (T+3 Hours)

A plate appears before me, plain toast, a slice of cheese, a boiled egg. A glass of milk is next to me. "Eat," my husband says, and then he sits with me while I eat, making sure I don't forget to eat. I finish the plate, except for the cheese, and he brings me another piece of toast, buttered this time. "Eat." I slowly finish the plate off.

~1:00pm (T+4 Hours)

My husband leaves to get the kids. He should have left a little bit ago, but he wanted to make sure I finished my food. I just curl up in my blanket and stare at the blank TV. The kids are quiet when they come home. They don't ask me questions. I'm glad. I can't talk right now anyway.

~5:00pm (T+8 Hours)

For some reason I check my phone and see a missed call. One of my coworkers. I'm not ready to talk yet. I remind myself to call back later. I forget to do so.

~6:00pm (T+9 Hours)

I go on the computer for the first time today, for some reason I go to Facebook. Her page hasn't been set to memorial status yet. I steel myself and go to read. Once I'm done, I leave my words, like so many others already have. 'We all lost a friend, a coworker, a sister today. Peace be with all who are grieving. We will miss you.' It takes me half an hour to type that simple message.

~9:00pm (T+12 Hours)

I try to go to bed, and actually manage to doze off, but wake up stifling a scream and crying. Every time I close my eyes I see her in that crumpled car. I do not sleep that night.

5-16-12 ~7:00 (T+22 Hours)

I don't want him to take the kids to school. But I don't say anything. They have to go. I am never awake this early, but then again, I didn't sleep. I'm glad when he gets back; glad, and thankful.

~9:00am (T+24 Hours)

I have my husband drive me to work. Just thinking about getting into the car throws me into a panic, and driving is not even negotiable. I get to work and there are grief counselors there from the crisis center talking to everyone in the meeting room. There is plenty of tissues, and not a single dry eye in the room. Someone mentions the cross at the side of the road that appeared in the night, and is already covered with flowers, mementos, messages, and trinkets. Another volunteers that he will remember her favorite scrubs, canary yellow top and bright pink bottoms. "Pepto-Big Bird". Silence falls afterward. She was wearing those scrubs yesterday. We all hold back tears.

Some of them stayed all day. One mentions that they weren't able to get her out of the car until around noon, but when they did, it started raining. That's how she knows our friend went to heaven. More tears all around. The counselors tell us how wonderful it is that we have each other, how like a family we all are, how impressed they are with the strength we are showing. It doesn't seem to register with them that yes, we are a family, but we have lost a family member, not a co-worker. As the meeting breaks up so we can open the shelter, one of my co-workers comes up to me. She is the parent of one of the others who was injured, and I ask her how he is doing.

She tells me he is okay, though hurting; a concussion, whiplash, and a separated shoulder. Thankfully the accident didn't seem to aggravate his back, which had been injured previously. She then tells me it is a good thing I followed her off the road, since we both would have gotten pancaked by the truck that screeched by us. I hadn't even realized it was her in front of me, but realizing that yes, we could have gotten into another crash that easily suddenly hits home. I had been in an accident myself just last year; trying to avoid a semi truck, I was rear ended by another idiot who wasn't paying attention.

I call my husband soon after that and end up going home.

~12:00pm (T+27 Hours)

I am afraid to turn on the TV or radio. Afraid I will hear or see something about the accident. I go online instead, log onto a few sites, and do nothing. One of my friends sees me online, asks me what's wrong; they know I'm not online during the day. I say something happened, something bad. They press, gently, and I find myself talking about it. But even though I am able to type out the basics, I'm not ready to describe everything, and I'm not ready to talk about it, not out loud. Still, it passes a few hours, and helps me through the day.

~9:00pm (T+36 Hours)

I think I get a half hour of sleep altogether. Bits and pieces and scraps of time. At least I can close my eyes; it is the dreams, or rather the nightmares, that are waking me.

5-17-12 ~9:00am (T+2 Days)

Work is hard. My husband has driven me again; I'm still not ready. The volunteers have brought food, a lot of food. They want to talk about it, hug everyone, but we're not ready. I manage to make it through the day, though there are a few points when I just break down and cry. So many flowers. The shelter stinks of them. So many people who don't know. Our own accounting department wants to know why there was not a transaction report for the day of the accident. We send a politely worded nasty e-mail informing them that "Due to the horribly tragic events of that day, the shelter was closed and there were no transactions to report."

5-18-12 ~9:00am (T+3 Days)

I drive myself into work, though my husband rides with me, just in case. A local fast food place has donated lunch, and we all eat it, even though we comment that she wouldn't have. They are meat sandwiches and she is, was, vegan. I remember that she and I kept talking about how were going to make vegan s'mores one day. I cry, and everyone else does too when I explain.

5-19-12 ~9:00am (T+4 Days)

I drive myself into work, alone. Finally, the last day of the week. Around noon, an e-mail is printed off and circulated amongst the staff. That evening, there will be a BYOB and BYOD celebration. I text my husband, and ask if he can call my parents, ask them to take the kids for a few hours. We set it up quickly, and I'm grateful my parents understand.

~7:00pm (T+4.5 Days)

The party, though no doubt intended to bring together those who knew her at work, and those her knew her outside of work, only serves to prove the gap between us. Her outside friends talk about her, having fun with her, things we never knew about or didn't really associate with her. We shelter friends huddle together, talking about memories we have, and for a short time, about the accident. Her boyfriend is there, and I think he spends more time with us than with the others. The one thing that I remember most, is that we shelter friends all thought it was too early, too soon.

5-22-12 ~9:00am (T+7 Days)

One week. I still tense up driving through the scene, which happened right at the only entry to the shelter. The flowers are overpowering, and are starting to go bad, adding the sickly sweet stench of decay to the already strong smells in the lobby. Cards cover the front counter, front vets, from vendors, from citizens, many of who didn't even know her. But the cards are not for her, they are for us, and that, means so much to us, who oftentimes hear only from the worst of the community.

5-28-12 ~12:00pm (T+2 Weeks)

We hold a luncheon at work, followed by a tree planting ceremony. Many attend, her family, her boyfriend, our shelter workers, the County Sheriff, a few County Commissioners, etc. Even with the rain, it is a pleasant ceremony, though tearful. The family is grateful to us for what we have done. We wish we could have done more.

That night we are watching TV, something I've gradually been able to do without fear of seeing anything about the accident. One of the crime shows ends with a car accident, and my husband turns to me, worried. I am crying, but I only say, "They don't sound that loud. And there's never any glass in movies or on TV. That's the worst part, the glass..." I don't think I'll ever be able to see an accident again.

6-18-12 ~7:30am (T+1 Month)

It has been a month. We are finally starting to move on, and even manage to perform a series of funny skits for the monthly meeting. But as we are driving out, our caution shows. Everyone is driving slower, looking out for each other. Turn signals are put on well in advance; those driving dog trucks even put on their strobes and flashers. But I realize something. I am no longer white knuckled as I pass through the intersection. We are all starting to heal.

7-17-12 ~7:30am (T+2 Months)

The two month anniversary comes with sorrow. Another county worker, in another department has been gravely injured. We all take a moment of silence. It's all we can do.

At lunchtime, I decide it is time to write, to release the demon, so to speak. I cry as I write, but they are cathartic tears, not painful ones. They ease the pain, rather than bringing more. I tell my husband I am writing, and he encourages it, so that he can know more about how I was feeling, what I saw, everything I couldn't, and maybe still can't say about that day. I cannot believe how long the story is.