It was 47 years of a "long time ago."
Yet I still remember that ill-fated day and probably will never forget.
My little sister and I were walking home from school. It was a 7 or 8 block walk from the old high school in Haven down to our folks' cafe in the south part of town. We had just gotten out of school for the day and had actually made it to the post office before a car belonging to a dear friend pulled up and waved us over.
It was one of the women who worked for our folks, Mabel Nicklaus, and she told us that our mom had asked her to pick us up from school and take us over to her house. We thought that was kind of weird, but Mabel was our friend and we knew that whatever she told us was the right thing to do.
So we went.
After being at Mabel's house for an hour or so, the phone rang and I could tell that she was talking to our mom. After she hung up, we all got back into Mabel's car and headed the 4 blocks away where our family's restaurant and service station was. When we got there, the curtains were being drawn and the last of the customers was being ushered out the door. It seemed so strange. It was only 4:30 in the afternoon. Why was everything closing up? We stayed open until 10:00 p.m. every evening. We were always there.
We soon found out.
I began to put things together. Something was wrong. Really wrong. Immediately I thought of my father. I knew he had been cutting milo that day over by Burrton. I wondered if something had happened to him. I remember asking Mabel if there was something wrong and if it was about my dad. She didn't say anything but she sure looked sad.
Our mom met us in the kitchen area and I will never, ever forget what she told us that day. I'm 61 years old now but the 14-year old that I used to be, seared that message into her heart. There it shall remain. With tears in her eyes, she told us.
"Janice had an accident and we don't have her anymore. She was killed."
When you are 14, the last thing on your mind is losing someone from your family. You know how it is when you are a kid. You wake up in the morning, get ready for school, grab your books, and head out the door. You go to class, talk to your friends, have lunch, and wait for the final bell to mercifully ring. When the day is over, you expect to just go on home to your normal life. Your normal, boring life.
But not that day.
Everyone was sad and crying. Our parents filled us in on what had happened. It was about Janice, an older sister of mine. She was married and had two little girls. At age 27, she and her husband were living in the house that the oldest 5 of us kids grew up in, nestled deep inside the sand hills of Harvey County, Kansas. She was heading home from town that afternoon and was really only about 3 miles from home. Janice stopped at the stop sign by Farmer's Corner just outside of Halstead, Kansas. She looked up for an instant and began to drive across the highway.
Janice never saw the semi that hit her.
Now that I am older, I actually take much solace in that.
At least she didn't suffer. Janice didn't even know what hit her.
Her little 8-month old daughter Kimberly was in the front seat beside her. The car seat she was sitting in would absolutely never pass the stringent safety standards of today. Back in that time nearly half a century ago, that's all kids ever used. Miraculously, Kimberly lived but she was hurt so badly that she would always be an invalid for the rest of her life. After months and months of being in the hospital, a little tiny child now blind and both mentally and physically handicapped, came home to live with our family.
Oh, how she was loved!
Mom always kind of felt bad for something she had wished for many years before. She was a woman who loved little babies and I'm sure that when the time came that the last of her 7 babies was no longer a little one, she really missed having one around. Mom always said that she wished she could have a baby that never grew up, one that always stayed a baby. She got her wish with Kimberly and it was a sad realization for her.
My folks took care of Kimberly for the next 13 years. So many sacrifices were made by all of us but in the end it was so worth it. At age 13 Kimberly had become too big for my mom to lift and take care of any longer. She spent her remaining ten years of life living in the Winfield State Hospital. Ironically, she died at age 23 on November 3, 1992. It was nearly 23 years to the day that the accident happened.
The years went by and I have forgotten exactly what my sister looked like. A Christmas Eve fire in 1976 at my parents' home destroyed all of the photos we had of her. I regret that I cannot even remember her voice. I only carry any memory of her in my heart. Time went on and the young 14-year old girl I was then, became much older.
I remember her today because I believe she is in Heaven. My mom and dad, brother Mike, and my sweet niece Kimberly are with her too. Perhaps she would be surprised to see what her little sister Peggy grew up to be. I have outlived her age by 34 years, an accomplishment that I do not take lightly. By God's grace, my life has been spared all these many years that have passed by.
My sister's part of the "plan" was much shorter than mine. In the quick span of 27 years, she lived her whole life. When I turned 27, I vowed to never take for granted each year that was given to me. That's one reason why I am not upset to tell people, especially my children at school, how old I am. Not everyone gets to grow older.
It's a good thing that we never know for sure how long it is that we have on this earth. Because we do not, we all should be living our lives to the fullest, each and every day. Never take the time for granted my dear friends.
My sister would wish that for you.
So do I.
Janice missed out on so many things.
She never saw me grow up and build my first snowman.
She never saw a thousand other things.
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