I lost my mom eighteen years ago today. It was the worst day of my life, one that I had relived over and over in my head so many times.
My mom was the greatest. She just was. She was there for her kids — all five of us — when we were sick, scared, hungry, or sad. When we got off the school bus, she was there waiting to hear about our day. She had supper on the table every night and somehow she managed to listen to our prayers and find our favorite songs on the radio to lull us to sleep. She was overly generous, literally offering the shirt off her back. I am not kidding – one time I made the mistake of complimenting her on her blouse. “Do you want it – here try it on”. That was my mom.
I always thought my mom would live forever. But one Tuesday, while I was at work I got this call from my sister Annette.
It was two days before Thanksgiving and the day before my dad’s birthday. I was living in Washington, D.C. and my family didn’t think I was going to make it home because it was my first year and I had to work the day after the holiday. Somehow I swung it that I could go home so I was planning to surprise them and be home for Thanksgiving.
But then I got the call.
She said there was an accident at the house. She said Dad was lifeflighted to the hospital and our oldest brother Stephen, who’s autistic, was taken by ambulance. I said “what about mom”. There was a long pause…and I guess I knew. She said, “Nicole, Mom didn’t make it”. I don’t remember much after that — one of my colleagues came in to hug me and talk to my sister – I was a bit of a mess.
The accident was a furnace malfunction. Coal furnace. Carbon monoxide. My mom never woke up. My dad was lucky – somehow he made it out of the bedroom before he fell unconscious.
When my dad didn’t show up at work that morning (My dad never was late for work, rarely took a sick day and if he did called well in advance.), a co-worker called my sister Michelle who in turn called Annette, who lived a few blocks away at the time. When she got to the house she knew something was wrong. Their car was parked outside, the doors were locked and the lights were out. She had to break the window to get in.
She called Michelle while she climbed the steps to the bedroom. When she found our parents, she assumed they were dead. Stephen was barely conscious in his bedroom. Annette called 911 and they told her to get out of the house. But she went back in, and pulled Stephen to safety. We like to call her our little hero. If it wasn’t for her our dad wouldn’t have survived either. His heart had stopped but the paramedics, who are also heroes, revived him. He spent many hours in the hyperbaric chamber to rid his body of that deadly gas.
This was a tragedy – one that has devastated our family and keeps us all wondering…what if? What if we would have had a carbon monoxide detector? What if we would have double checked that furnace to make sure it was running properly? What if…
If you use any form of fossil fuels (coal, natural gas, oil) to heat your home, make sure that you have working carbon monoxide detectors in your home. Consider having one for each floor, including the basement. Make sure the batteries are changed regularly (every six months).
They don’t call it the silent killer for nothing…it is odorless, colorless and unless you have a carbon monoxide detector, silent too.
We were lucky to have such an amazing mom. We just lost her way too soon.