Child’s Death from Traumatic Brain Injury

A Parent’s Grief – Goodbye Darkness

By Daniel Thacker

Visits from demons in the night

I awoke in a cold sweat, my nightclothes soaked and clinging to my clammy, quivering body. My heart was racing like a speeding jaguar and my breathing was so erratic, it felt as if some unseen hand had me by the throat, squeezing the life out of me!

I sat up in my bed, which looked as if a trio of demons had been frolicking around in it all night. As I slowly began to get my heartbeat under control and regain some semblance of normal breathing, I began to look around me, as if to assure myself that there really were no demons in bed with me!

There were none, at least in the physical sense. I looked toward the window on the other side of my bedroom, opposite the doorway, and saw sunlight filtering in between the blinds. “Its daylight outside,” I thought, “but why do I face this terrible darkness when I awake?” Knowing that facing this new day is really just another old one that contains more of the same realities I have tried to cope with for thousands of new days past. Always, I hope for that one day when I can truly waken to a new day and one when I can finally say, “Goodbye darkness.”

So many goodbyes

Goodbye to the awful memories of the accident, to wonderful plans that have been made for a future with a kind, loving, laughing and happy-go-lucky young boy who, at the tender age of ten, thought life would go on forever. In his mind, there would always be a tomorrow, another day with Dad, another day to tease his older sister and con his way out of minor difficulties with his charm and soft, smiling brown eyes that his mom could not resist.

Goodbye to the one whom once occupied the now empty chair at the table, the empty bed where his head once lay, beneath the Jesus light that brightened his night so that he would never be in darkness. Goodbye to your own peace of mind and contentment from having such a child to share your life, your hopes and your dreams.

Yes, that is darkness in a world of sunshine, a demon that tortures with its own brand of misery that leaves no physical scars but has you crying out in heartwrenching agony with such a special kind of pain, that you feel as if your very soul has been cast into a burning hell of another kind. Always the question comes. “Why? Why him? Why me? What did he do that was so terrible to justify being separated in such a horrible way?”

The trip I would regret forever

It was late April 1982 and we had just returned from a week’s vacation in southeastern Kentucky where we had been visiting some relatives. It was our first trip to the south and the kids were excited about meeting new folks, seeing the old south and how the folks there lived in comparison to the way the city folk in Blaine, Minnesota lived. It was a great trip and everybody had such a good time, they dreaded to see it end so soon! As expected, my son, Derek, began with that irresistible charm of his and this time he had plenty of help from his equally charming sister, Sandy! His mother, Angie and I knew we were going to lose this battle! Not that we offered much resistance because we, too, hated to see this vacation end so soon.

So we decided to continue with the gypsy spirit and travel on to Arizona to visit with the children’s grandparents. We immediately began preparations to leave right away while the traveling mood was upon us. We reloaded the camper, made arrangements with our friends and neighbors to look after things for us again, and set out for the old west.

We had several days of just cruisn’ along and enjoying the scenery with stops along the way at the Apache Indian Reservation and the old Union Army Forts along Interstate I-40. We arrived at our destination in Concho Valley, Arizona, at the home of Angie’s parents. Needless to say, we were somewhat tired and relieved that the trip was over! Everyone had a happy reunion and caught up on all the latest news and gossip. Then it was suppertime, showers and preparations for early bedtime.

The new day began at 6:30 a.m. and to my surprise, the kids were already up and about, eager to search for new adventures and investigate their desert surroundings! After breakfast was over and the kitchen put back in order, I received a phone call that required my presence in the town of Holbrook, Arizona. It was to be a trip that I would forever regret.

As I was preparing to exit the driveway to begin the long, boring trip, my son came over to the camper and climbed up on the running board by the driver side window. He appeared uncertain and somewhat sad about my departure. I had asked Derek earlier that morning if he wanted to ride along with me. His face lit up with the anticipation of spending time alone with Dad! We always had such a great time together whenever we did have time to share. But now, he was having a problem saying what was on his mind! I asked him, “What’s wrong champ? Are you ready to get on the road again?”

He had such a hurt look on his face that I began to worry that something dreadful had happened. Finally he said, “Dad, what should I do? I told you I wanted to go with you, but Sandy will be all alone here and since she is not ready for another trip, she asked if I would stay and go rock hunting with her at the base of the cliff across the road,” pointing to a rock formation about a hundred yards on the other side of the highway.

Well, knowing what a nut Sandy is at collecting and how protective Derek has always been about his sister, I could see the indecision on his face and how difficult this must be for him. Trying to hide my own disappointment, I said in the most nonchalant voice I could muster, “Sure, it’s a great idea, by all means you need to be with her. You can’t let her go off alone over there, not with the rattlesnakes and scorpions they have in this country!”

I saw the light appear in his eyes again and the look of relief on his face and I knew, somehow, that it was the answer he needed to hear. It turned out to be, in my mind, the worst decision I have ever made in my life!

After a big hug and kiss through the open window of the truck’s door, he jumped down and waved, shouting, “Goodbye” as I pulled out onto the highway, heading into what was to become a living hell of darkness.

A final parting

As I traveled along, thinking of our parting, I began to have a silly notion that maybe the kids changed their minds about exploring and maybe Derek would want to come with me after all. So I reached over to turn on my CB radio, hoping to hear his voice calling me from the base station radio at his grandfather’s house. It was about 11 a.m. when I thought I heard a call for the Blue Jay, my CB handle! But I was already a good distance down the road and, what with the mountains and all, I lost whatever signal I had.

So I continued on my way, thinking maybe I was mistaken and only wanted to hear the Blue Jay call! So I soon let the thought pass and arrived in Holbrook. Upon completion of my business there, I immediately refueled at the truck stop and headed back to Concho Valley, driving somewhat faster than the speed limits allowed. I began to feel an uneasiness that I just somehow couldn’t shake, even after trying to convince myself that I was being a worry wart, that everything is fine. Little did I know that the clouds of darkness were already beginning to gather and the light of my life was fading away.

I arrived back in Concho Valley about 2 p.m. and as I turned in the lane leading to the driveway where the folks lived, I saw a large number of cars and pickup trucks parked at all angles – in the driveway, the yard and even by the side of the highway! Before I could even stop my truck, I saw Angie’s sister running toward me, waving her arms and crying. I suddenly felt hot, then cold. My heart was pounding in my chest like a jackhammer. I heard again the CB call, and felt, once again, the unease and I somehow knew that my worse nightmares were only just beginning. I slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the truck. “What’s wrong” I asked, What’s happening here, who are all these people at the house, why are you crying?

“Oh God, Danny,” Arlene said. It’s Derek!  “A car with two drunken marines in it hit him while he was crossing the highway! It happened shortly after you left for Holbrook.” Dad tried to reach you from the base station but he couldn’t get a clear signal to you.  Derek was still alive when the ambulance left with him a short while ago but we just received a call from the hospital that he died! The doctor said that his brain was so badly damaged that he was already brain dead and that if, by some miracle, Derek had lived, he would have been in a vegetative state, constantly connected to machines.

I was in shock. I couldn’t respond. My mind was just not willing to accept what I was hearing. But gradually the reality started to set in. I began to digest, somehow in my shocked state of mind, what Arlene was saying. The truth was beginning to sink in and squeeze my guts until I could almost taste the bile rising in my throat! With my head still spinning, the tears streaming down my face and my heart breaking into a million pieces, I began to get the details of what happened after I left that morning, May 2nd, 1982.

Derek and Sandy did go exploring across the highway, by the formation of rocks at the base of the cliff. After they had looked around for awhile and found a few interesting stones to add to their collection, they proceeded to return back across the highway to the house. The highway was straight for more than a half mile in either direction, with no obstructions to block visibility of any on-coming vehicles. Sandy had crossed the road first and was waiting on the other side for Derek to cross. Suddenly, as Derek reached the centerline of the highway, Sandy yelled at him to stop! “Go back,” she said “there’s a car coming!” Derek stopped, saw the car and turned to go back. He made about two steps when the car swerved into the lane Derek was in and struck him at full impact, knocking him through the air approximately twenty feet before he landed in a torn, mangled heap on the side of the highway.

After getting what details I could from Arlene, I left immediately for the hospital. When I arrived there about 25 minutes later, I learned that Derek had expired and was removed to the local funeral home. I don’t think it’s necessary, at this point, to go into details of my son’s condition when I finally saw him lying there on the metal table. Only that what I saw will forever be a part of what memory I still have left after my own, later, head injuries.

An investigation later determined that after the driver applied his brakes, there was a space of 22 feet where brake residue was released before the brakes dead locked. Then there were another 90 feet of skid marks before the car hit Derek, propelling him twenty feet down the road. This, with my son weighing 110 pounds! Yet, it was concluded that the vehicle was traveling at 55 mph.

It was further determined, by my own investigation, that the two marines, who were enroute to Camp Pendleton, California from Blue Water, New Mexico, had stopped up the road in St. Johns where they had a “couple” of drinks in a bar and purchased a six pack to go! It was discovered, at the scene of the accident, that the six pack had been consumed prior to the accident, within a distance of only 14 miles! Because Derek was still alive when the ambulance left, the highway patrolman said he could not detain military personnel enroute to their military installation! So the two marines were released to continue on their way!

Searching for a brighter light in the darkness

There are many types of death with brain injury. With Derek, it was the death of physical pain and suffering. That’s the “blessing” you often hear preachers talk about. But, in my opinion, no violent death is a blessing! Not in the hearts and minds of those who must endure the darkness of their own private hell! Whether it is the death of a loved one or the other deaths that many victims of brain injury must face, I still cannot see the blessing in that.

I can, however, see the need for assistance, for rehabilitation, for patience, understanding and compassion. Brain injury victims are entitled to the same chance of restoration as the train station, the caboose of the old railroad train or the library. These victims deserve the chance to be repaired, to have restored to them some of the ability and dignity they lost, along with a portion of their brain that once permitted them to contribute and function in society as did the aforementioned train station, caboose and library.

It is our duty, as advocates, to attempt to shed a brighter light upon the darkness of ignorance and the often-devastating effects of brain injury. Stories such as mine are intended to show some of the horrors that brain injury can have, not only upon the victim but upon their family and loved ones as well.

Until we all can be made fully aware of this injury and its devastating effects, and until we realize that there is help that can be made available if Congress and our State Representatives will only open their eyes to the same vision with which they view other disabilities, needless hardships and suffering will continue. It is, today and always, my fervent hope that all brain injury victims and their loved ones can, one day, say “Goodbye to Darkness!”