One year passing since Collin died was a very hard time, and this time when the second year came around it wasn’t as bad but it was still there. Mainly just the two weeks leading up to that "day" are the most difficult. This time two years ago during those two weeks we were all in the hospital going through awful things everyday. Now exactly two years ago looking back, those two weeks seemed to last a month.
It’s as if you bought a Tivo and it had a big block of programming hard-wired into the box that you couldn’t ever delete. It’ll always be there when you scroll through your shows and always listed on the top of the "now playing" list. I’m pretty sure I speak for my family in that we remember those two weeks very very well. More than we would like.
Last year when the 1 year mark rolled around, the weather had that exact same hot August Arkansas sticky humidity and the sun beat down just as hard on the brown grass as it had on the afternoon of the wreck. The particular date and the weather really put my mind back in that set of horrible events.
This time it wasn’t like that for me because I was in New Mexico for DeAnja’s brother’s wedding. Imagine a perfect Arkansas fall day with low humidity and a light breeze blowing around 71 degree air, and that’s generally how it is all summer in Albuquerque. So I didn’t really think about it that much because the scenery and the weather were pretty foreign.
The things I thought about a lot though, during these corrosponding two weeks that he was in the hospital get kinda hazy sometimes. Other times not.
Being raised by an active dad in a family of boys and a mother who pretty much gave up on us ever being publikly affekshun it, ....displays of effection outside a pat on the back or a handshake or a quick jab to the ribs were off limits. Anything beyond that was just plain weird. Huggers we definatley weren’t, and for the most part, still aren’t.
I’m reminded of that every time I’m around my wife’s family, because they are very pro-displays of affection, …. overly friendly and publicly affectionately expressive in ways that I am not akin to, and they make fun of me because I stand out in that I am, …not.
Mom did her best, but Drew’s not a hugger.
I stick out like a sore thumb among my wife’s peoples. They are huggers.
Circumstances though, can change. A very vivid set of things I remember from when Collin was in the hospital involve me standing over him and holding his hand.
Very uninhibited.
Sincere manly hand holding.
Even in his condition he had very large hands. Working man’s hands. Not like my college-keyboard hands. His were calloused, strong accomplished electrician hands.
I remember when he and Corey walked me through the Baymont hotel a month or so before the accident while it was still under contruction; showing me all the things that they had been working on. I remember the pride and a swagger in Collin’s voice when he opened the door to a big commercial electric panel room. Giant breaker boxes and big conduit everywhere. He’d spent a lot of time mounting it all, putting it all together. He was 19, doing work a grown man would be very proud of. And he was proud of it. And I was really impressed.
Someday I’d like to stay a night at that hotel, pick the lock on that utility door, and get another look at those perfect pipes and panels.
