It was September 30th. My dad and I had just gotten in a pretty bad car accident on my way to school. Soon, my grandma picked me up and took me to school, where I had an awful headache come on, and was sent home. Later to find out I had a pretty bad concussion. I would lay on the couch and cry for no reason, wear sunglasses everywhere and fall asleep at the kitchen counter. I missed 2 weeks of school, and not only were these 2 weeks awful because I had a concussion, but I was also spending the majority of my time living at the hospital with my sick brother and mom.
The first time I saw my brother in the ICU, I immediately started crying. To see him in a state where he couldn’t do anything for himself, he drank through sponges, and was confined to his bed. I stood back and tried to compose myself, so that he wouldn’t see me cry. My mom pushed me to the side of his bed and I grabbed his hand. Immediately he said “Hannah, why are you crying?” How do you respond to that? I was looking at someone who meant the world to me being broken apart. I responded “it’s nothing.” He then said, “I never want you to cry, I love your laugh, never stop laughing.”
Those few weeks were full of rides back and forth from the hospital, staying with my grandparents, and playing catch up in academics. I look back on those weeks and they seem so long. So many people came to visit, my brother and I were kicked out of the room too many times to go adventure to a conference room or the cafeteria. Though we were there almost always, I always felt in the dark.
Looking back it saddens me because I don’t remember a lot of that time, either do to me blocking it out, or my concussion. I wish I remembered. What I do remember is the cafeteria food, a lot of salads and pizza. I remember watching The Devil wears Prada with Cory girlfriend, family that I hadn’t seen in a while, and Cory’s dad.
Halloween rolled around, and being 16 year old me, I dressed up as a nerd, went to a trunk or treat at my grandpas church and spent the night at a friends house where we watched movies and threw goldfish at each other. In the morning my dad picked me up. I talked about the fun night I had and assumed after we went back to my grandparents and cleaned up, we’d be going to the hospital. We round the corner to my grandparents house and I walk in the door and freeze.
My mom was sitting on the couch. My mom wasn’t supposed to be there. She’s supposed to be at the hospital. If she’s not at the hospital, who is?… I gaze around the room and everyone is there. But Cory. “Cory is gone…”, I thought. I bust into tears as my mom wraps her arms around me. No one even told me. I just knew.
My mom started to whisper in my ear “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” like it was her fault. I hug all my family in the room, and then go and seclude myself in the basement. What was I supposed to do.
It was 1 month between the accident, and Cory’s death. 4 weeks of hectic car rides. 10 people in his room at a time. 100 moments of happiness. 1000 glimmers of hope. 10000 tears shed.
I was lost, and broken and I had no idea what to do. I had a bottle of anger growing inside me. I was torn apart. I felt like one of the things that I held closest to me, God ripped apart.
The funeral came, I was wrecked by the time the ceremony started. I couldn’t stop crying because I realized that he was actually gone.
My family spent a lot of time putting on a strong face in public, but being wrecked inside of our home. I tried to find an outlet, and couldn’t find a healthy one. I started rebelling, being manipulative, and going against the core values that my parents raised me on. I was so pissed off at God that I couldn’t stand to be a part of the ministry I was involved in at the time. I ripped apart relationships and broke trust with anyone who was remotely close to me.
In March, I lost myself. Losing my best friend, and boyfriend all in one night. Betraying my parents, God and myself. Never finding the light at the end of the tunnel. But it was no tunnel I was going down, it was a deep dark hole with my face planted in the ground, and an elephant on top of me. Rock bottom was an understatement.
After a church service in nowhere Kentucky, a mom of a friend that was a part of the ministry I was in said “Hey, I have a word from the Lord for you.”
I just thought, “Lady, what are you talking about… the Lord isn’t going to reach out to me, don’t worry, I set my distance from Him.”
She then began speaking “Even though you’ve lost your way, I am still God. I am still in control. I will reignite the ember that has grown cold with in you. The gentle breeze of my Holy Spirit will fan the flames to fullness. You are mine. I will never leave you or forsake you, says the Lord. You are mine!
Renew your relationship with me, and see my will performed in your life. You are special in my sight and beautiful and wonderfully made.
Be still and seek me for direction in your life. I am yours and you are mine, says the Lord.”
And that’s when my life got turned around. A few weeks later I returned to my second home, Haiti, for a mission trip. Which reinstated what God had said to me. That I am His. I am God’s.
Now I can’t say that after my trip to Haiti I was perfect, but my healing process had begun. I went through counseling, built an accountability and support group, and made an effort to get my life back on track.
I have struggled and fallen away from God’s will a few times since then, but I guess that’s to be expected. I still struggle with things, and now that I’m letting God take some of these things from my life, and allowing him to take control, I feel like I have less to worry about.
I am always told, “I’m sorry for your loss” and it’s always really hard to respond. You go for the solid “yeah it’s hard, but it gets better” but then there are the moments where it isn’t better. Where you can totally tell that Cory is missing, and that there is still a hole in our family.
For the past 2 years, my family has gone camping on the anniversary of his death, October 31, in order to honor him, remember him, and spend time with one another. Though I am sad that I’ll be missing out on this family event, I will be serving in Ecuador, being the hands and feet of Jesus, and camping with my teammates..
Cory was always a goer. At 21 years old, he picked up his life and put all trust into a Schwinn bicycle that he bought from a garage sale. He left Ohio and traveled all the way to Arizona. He made it. Him and the bike. He told the chaplain in the hospital that it was spiritual journey for him.
I, too, have always loved the outdoors. This spring, I took a trip to Zion in Utah with a group of 13 college freshman. Some of us hiked to the top of Angel’s Landing. Standing there, feeling like you could see where the earth started to curve. A slight breeze caught my attention. And I felt as though my brother was standing there with me. Joy, pure joy, jolted through my veins.
I have no doubt that Cory would be excited that I am taking my spiritual journey I feel called to, as well. I know that he would be proud that I desire to help others in Ecuador, India, and Zambia. He was always one to lift up others, anywhere and anytime.
I know that his adventurous, caring spirit is in me too, and I am blessed to have his backpack on my back throughout the entire 9 months.
Thank you for all the continuous support and following me on my journey so far!
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