May 12, 2006, hit-and-run

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

At 7:40 a.m. on Friday, May 12, 2006, two days before Mother's Day, I came as close as I ever want to come to a parent's worst nightmare -- losing a child. I remember every detail of that drizzly morning two years ago as if it was yesterday. Traumatic events are like that. They etch themselves deep inside your memory, forever changing you.

Sirens screamed and then stopped near my home on that Friday morning. I knew -- when I stepped out of the shower, when I saw my front inside door flung open, when my husband was nowhere to be found, when I saw a police car angled in
front of my house blocking traffic -- that my son had been hit while crossing the street to his bus stop. A phone call from the bus company confirmed what I already knew in my gut.

Then reality and panic set in. I kept repeating, "Lord, please, not my baby." It was a prayer of sorts, I suppose, from a mother in shock. My oldest daughter, Amber, who had just moved home from college, grabbed me by the shoulders and commanded me to get dressed so we could go to the hospital.

I calmed considerably when my husband, Randy, who had rushed to the scene, arrived home in a squad car. Together we went to the hospital and waited and watched as the emergency room staff evaluated our 12-year-old son. Considering the fact that Caleb had been struck by a car and somersaulted through the air, his injuries were minor. He suffered a broken bone in his hand, a possible rib fracture, a bump on his head and scrapes. Today I remain forever grateful to God that Caleb came through all of this relatively unscathed.

His immediate physical injuries healed quickly. But the emotional impact lasted much longer, at least for me. The driver of the car that struck Caleb never stopped and has not come forward. That still bothers me, a lot. I can't understand how someone could hit a child and then simply drive away.

Every time I hear or read a news report of a pedestrian struck by a vehicle, especially a hit-and-run driver, the memories of that morning in May come rushing back. Our family worked with the police to find the driver. We talked to the local media. And two months after the accident, I suggested to the police that we offer a reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the person driving the blue four-door Chevrolet Cavalier or Corsica that struck Caleb. To my surprise, no monies existed locally for such a reward. I had to find the money on my own. I felt victimized all over again.

To this date, the $1,000 reward has produced no solid leads in the case. I have little hope that the driver will ever be found. But I still check in with the police department every few months seeking an update on the investigation. I keep a file of information on Caleb's case.

As hard as I try, I have not been able to shake one reaction that lingers. I cannot stand to hear the wail of sirens in the early morning, when children are walking to school.

And one other thought sticks with me. I wonder how the hit-and-run driver feels after two years of living with this on his/her conscience. How can he/she handle the guilt?

Comments

[Duane Kuss]

Significant emotional events. Their power is truly amazing. Thanks for sharing your powerful story.

Duane

[Audrey Kletscher Helbling]

Thanks for your encouragement, Duane. Some stories beg to be told and this is
one of them. There's much to be learned from others in the sharing of
experiences and emotions. I, for one, have developed a strong empathy for others
in similar situations. I have also learned that each day with a loved one is
truly a gift. I always hugged my son. But now when I hug him, my embrace is
tighter, closer.

Audrey Kletscher Helbling