On the anniversary of the accident, I felt the need to share the story of what happened that day. I posted my story on Facebook which I was nervous about because I wasn't interested in how many likes or comments I got. There were just some people who didn't know the whole story like people at Target for example. I'm sure a lot of people didn't know the whole story anyway, they just had heard bits and pieces.
It was healing to me for some reason to share the story because it really happened. It wasn't just a nightmare that no one can even imagine happening to them. There were real things that happened, there was even a little bit of hope that you might have made it through the accident, (I'm trying to finish the thought so I don't have to add "etc.") and this could have happened to anyone.
Telling my story validated what happened. It made it real. It was a horrible event with a horrible ending which I have reason to feel horrible about. It was scary, it was confusing, it was surreal. But it was part of my life. It was a part of the story that wasn't in the newspaper articles. It was the story that no one knew. I was there from the beginning of that day to the end of it. And I had a story to tell. Love you boy!
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