Just under 6 months ago my beautiful husband was killed in an automobile crash (I won't call it an accident). In the early morning hours of February 18, 2007, he was struck by a wrong way drunk driver who was traveling the wrong way in the fast lane of the US101 freeway here in Los Angeles. Aparently he died instantly, though I have a hard time finding peace with that and always wonder if he suffered before he passed away.
I will never forget the phone call I received from the coroners office (yes, phone call) at 8AM on that Sunday morning. When the phone rang, it woke me up. I instantly noticed that I was in bed alone, however, it wasn't unusual, due to my husbands work hours, he was either still at the studio, or had maybe fallen asleep on the couch downstairs like he'd done on previous occassions (he'd come home still "wired" from work and sit and surf the web. I'd come down in the morning to find him curled up with his laptop on the couch...). Then I was struck with an angry thought as I reached for the phone, thinking "I can't believe these telemarketers are calling at 8AM on a SUNDAY morning!"... There was a woman on the other end of the phone who asked me if I was Stephanie Cooper. Once I confirmed that, she asked me if I was related to Ethan Willloughby. "yes" I said, "who is this". "Are you his wife?" she continued. "Yes, who ARE you and why are you calling?" I was getting angry at this "telemarketer" for the line of questioning and was about to tell her to "f"-off when she replied that she was "xxx" from the Los Angeles Coroner's Office and that my husband had been in an accident.
The words "coroner's office" echoed in my brain.
Immediately I cut her off: "where is my husband?" I couldn't breathe.
"Your husband was in an accident."
"WHERE is my husband?"
"I'm sorry... He passed away".
"Who IS this" I said again. I was sure that this was the cruelist, most disgusting prank anyone had ever pulled.
"This is xxx from the LA Cororner's Office" she said again.
I remember pieces of the remaining 30 minute conversation after this. I remember her calling my name repeatedly as I lay on the floor unable to breathe. I began, literally, to convulse. The baby began to cry. I was all alone with a 1 year old and I couldn't move. I was paralized. I was ill.
I remember her wanting to call my inlaws in Wisconsin, and having a moment of clarity, I yelled, "Don't you do that to them. You find someone to go to their house". And I remember being alone for the first time for those 5 minutes it took for her to call the sheriff's department in my husband's home town to disbatch someone to my in-laws to tell them their son had been killed.
I remember her asking me if there was someone I could call to be with me, and I remember calling my mother with my cell phone (always by the bed...) while she stayed on the other phone. I remember my mom answering and I remember our conversation:
Mom: "hello"
Me: "Mommy Ethan"
Mom: "What's the matter"
Me: "Mommy Ethan was in an accident"
Mom: "Okay. He's going to be okay" (she's trying to console me. I DO tend to overreact sometimes...)
Me: "No Mommy"
Mom: "Okay, Stephie, it's going to be okay"
Me: "NO Mommy! Ethan's dead!"
I remember her screaming "Oh my God. I'm coming, I'll be right there".
"Right there" was a 30 minute drive.
So I waited with the stranger on the phone. That horrible, evil person that had brought this news that ruined my life.
I remember my mother walking through the door and I collapsed onto the floor, dropping the phone which my step father was there to catch. He could talk to the devil, I absolutely could not spend another minute on the phone with her..
Somewhere in there I had gotten my 1 year old out of her crib and I think I changed her diaper… The next thing I remember was my mom slapping my face. I guess I'd passed out, or at least gone completely catatonic… Funny thing is, having another moment of clarity I asked my mother to call a family member who owns a cleaning company. There'd be people coming, the house was a mess…
Then the people… in twos and fours… with food… The phone calls (an autopsy?... For a drunk driving death?... To rule out my HUSBAND being the cause?... I'm sorry, but he was on the RIGHT side of the freeway… Oh yeah, the jury…)
The tears I cried that day, you'd think that you would run out of them after hours and hours and HOURS of crying, but the body is an amazing machine, and miraculously can create as many tears as you can manage to cry.
The time after that was a blur. I know my in-laws showed up the next day. Then his best friend from Chicago. Then his God brother and his wife. There was a walk through of the site in Malibu we'd be having a memorial service… Memorial Service… It's still not right…
We'd follow that memorial service with a trip to Wisconsin for the funeral. It never seemed to end, but we "had to do something for his friends in Los Angeles", even though I knew I couldn't bury my husband anywhere but in Wisconsin. He came to LA to follow a dream of working in Music, at which he succeeded, gaining his first Grammy nomination shortly before his death. We'd just been at his first, last, and only Grammy Awards exactly one week before he passed away. But with all of that he was just a small town kid from Wisconsin. He LOVED it there. If it had anything to do with beer, brats, Packers, Badgers or Brewers, he was all about it. And I will always respect that. I do regret that I can't go and visit him, and I often feel guilty and hope that he's okay with my decision.
I spend a lot of time these days talking to him. I tell him how much I miss him. How much I love him. Alone at night in my room, I often find myself begging him for hours to come home. At least I've stopped waiting for him to walk through the front door, even though I wish he would. I look at his photos everyday and I am scared about what lies ahead for me and my girls. I probably need therapy, but what I would prefer is someone to talk to that's already been where I am and where I'm going (I don't want someone to sit with their notepad and ask me "how are you doing today?"), so I try to seek those people out. Maybe it's stupid, I don't know, but I do know that I need to do something. Things don't get any easier, at least they haven't for me. The justice system is another blog entry for another day, but the trial is looming and I'm very, very scared that this murderer is going to get nothing more than the proverbial slap on the wrist. But again, more on that another time…
I titled this post "Gotta Start Somewhere" because I've been thinking of starting a blog for, oh, about 5 months now. Suddenly I guess the stars aligned tonight, so, well, here I am. I'll be around regularly, usually to rant, because there is really nothing more you can do in these situations (did you expect comedy?). If you want me to grin and bear it, show up to my office. This is not the time or place for it, this is my place to be honest, and intend to be nothing less here…
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