Things Left Unspoken

I mentioned here a while back that I wanted to post excerpts of what I’ve written to this point on Caitlin and Diane, and my life without them.  I like the idea of, as I wrote then, “semi-regularly” posting excerpts from what I have done so far.

Today, I’ve decided, is semi-regular, so here’s the next one.  It’s not immediately after the last post I shared from my notes, it takes place about two months after we moved in to Wonder Lake.  In fact, it’s my recollection of some of the events from the night of the crash.

Obviously, it’s an emotional piece, for me at least.  And this post will be a little longer than my usual.  Typically, I try to keep these around 1,000 words and this one will be closer to 2,000 words.

As we move through this holiday weekend, take some time to let your loved ones know how much they mean to you.  That sounds clichéd, I know, but I feel like something that simple really does tend to get overlooked.  I wish I had something really profound to add to that, but instead, I give you this…

The phone rang and Diane answered.  It was Caitlin.  She was done shopping.  She found an outfit she was happy with and called to tell her Mother about it.  Since this was the first time Caitlin had gone to Woodfield Mall since we moved, she wasn’t sure how to get home from there.  Diane tried to tell her which roads to take and where to turn, but after a few minutes Caitlin told her she would just go the way she always went.  It would take longer but at least she would, more or less, know where she was.  Diane was tired.  She had worked that day and I had been off.  I told her to go in and go to bed and I would wait up for Caitlin.  This wasn’t all that uncommon.  She’d had to get up early that morning, at 5:00 AM, to get ready for work and I had nothing going on the next day so it didn’t matter if I slept in a little.  Diane went to bed around 9:15.  

I went into the office in our house and sat down at the computer to wait for Caitlin.  I started playing solitaire, trying to do something to pass the time until she got home.  Solitaire seemed like a nice, mindless way to fill some time.  

I need to get something off my chest here.  This will bother me until the day I die.  

I never told Caitlin that I loved her.  

From before Diane and I got married.  From before the point where we knew we would eventually get married, I felt like Cassi and Caitlin were my own daughters.  I knew they weren’t.  I mean, I knew I wasn’t their biological father.  But I did love those two girls, just like they were my own flesh and blood.  And I still do.  That hasn’t changed.  And it never will.  But I never said those words to her.  I never once, in the eight years between the time Diane and I met, to the day Caitlin was killed, said to her “Caitlin, I love you.”  And it bothers me.  Diane always told me, and Cassi did too, don’t worry about it.  She knew you loved her and she loved you too.  But still.  How could I do that?  How could I be around someone I cared about that much and not say those words?  There were many nights when it was just the two of us at home and we’d hang out and watch TV together until she went upstairs to do her homework.  She used to enjoy watching “Trading Places” a show where neighbors would remodel a room or rooms in each others house.  She started me watching it.  She also loved “Full House” and watched it whenever it was on.  And I made fun of her for that.

She was such a funny kid.  Funny, I mean, with a great sense of humor.  She had a vivacious personality too; it was impossible not to like her.  And she was as cute as a button.  She was about 5’2” tall and 100 pounds soaking wet.  She had the same electric blue eyes as her mother and the same “light up a room” smile.  Her natural hair color was blonde just like her personality, as we used to tease her.  The Blonde Child, we called her.  Plus she had really small feet.  No, I mean really small.  Petite.  And for some reason, Tobi the Jack Russell always felt the need to try and bite her feet.  This resulted in hours of entertainment for the rest of us.  Caitlin was the type of person that, in a room full of people, you could always find.  She was the one in the center of the biggest crowd.  She just had that effect on people.  She told us she’d thought she wanted to try acting.  I’ve often thought it was what she was born to do.

At 9:30 the phone rang again.  I answered.  It was Caitlin.  She was on Route 72 and she wondered if she was going in the right direction.  And I assured her she was.

“Should I be going east or west on Route 72?”

“You should be going west.”

“Oh good.  I’m going the right way.  I’ll be home in a little while.”

“Ok.  Drive Careful.”

I have no clue how many solitaire games I played.  But as 10:30 PM approached, I was getting tired.  I’d spoken with her an hour ago; she should be home by now, or at least very close.  I tried to call Caitlin’s cell phone.  It rang two or three times and went to her voicemail.  I didn’t think too much of it.  There were a lot of bad cell sites where we lived, especially back in 2003.  So I went back to my solitaire game.  And I waited a little while and tried the number again.  

Same result.  Caitlin’s voicemail.  

More solitaire.  

And I kept trying her number, the frequency coming faster and faster. 

I left a message on her voicemail “Hey kiddo, it’s me.  Just checking on you.  Call my cell when you get the message.” 

And I kept trying her cell phone number.

“She’s lost” I told myself.  “She made a wrong turn or two and isn’t sure where she is” I said.  “She knows it’s me calling her and there’s no way she’ll answer the phone.  She knows how much grief I’ll give her for getting lost.” I laughed to myself “That goof.”

And I kept trying to reach her phone, each call closer to the last.

“She must be on her way to Grandma’s house for the night.”  I was certain of it.  “Or maybe she’s going to one of her girlfriends.  She won’t come home this late, she’ll stay in Elgin.”

And then, around midnight, I woke Diane.  

“Caitlin isn’t home yet.”

Diane woke from the last sound sleep she would have for a long time.  She sat bolt upright in bed and said “Oh my God.  Something’s happened.  I’m going to go look for her.”  As Diane tried Caitlin’s cell phone, I told her I thought maybe Caitlin had made a wrong turn or two and had gone to Elgin to spend the night with Grandma or one of her girlfriends.  I told her Caitlin had called me from Route 72 wondering if she was going in the right direction.  

Diane called her oldest daughter, Cassi.  She was in her second year of college at Southern Illinois University (SIU).  She and Caitlin were very close and spoke on the phone often.  Diane asked if Cassi had heard from her sister.  Cassi said they had spoken around 9:15 when Caitlin called to tell her all about the outfit she’d bought at Woodfield.  Diane told her Caitlin hadn’t made it home from the mall yet and we were worried. 

Diane decided she was going to get in the car and go looking for her.  She was going to head down to Route 72 and start there.  I stopped her. “Wait honey, wait.  Don’t go running out of the house just yet.  Let me make some phone calls first.” 

I called the non-emergency number for the Schaumburg Police Department, the town Woodfield Mall is in.  When I spoke with the dispatcher, I couldn’t remember the license plate number so I gave the vehicle identification number (VIN) from a copy of her insurance card and a description of Caitlin’s car.   I asked if they’d had any incidents with the vehicle.  

“No sir.  Nothing with that vehicle.”

And I tried to retrace what I’d expected Caitlin’s route home to be.  I tried the Hoffman Estates Police Department.  I gave them the VIN and a description.  Same thing.  

“No sir.  Nothing with that vehicle.”

East and West Dundee Police Departments had the same response and so did the Kane County Sheriff’s Office.  And then I tried the McHenry County Sheriff’s Office.

“My step-daughter should have been home from the mall several hours ago.  She was on her way, I spoke with her, but she hasn’t made it yet.  Have you had any incidents involving this vehicle?”  And I gave them her VIN and the vehicle description.  

And they put me on hold.

Forever.

At least it felt like forever.  In all honesty, it was probably only a minute or two at most.  When the dispatcher came back on the line, she asked me a couple of questions and I really don’t remember what they were.  But I was put back on hold.

Again, forever.

When they came back on the line, I was told Caitlin had been involved in a crash.  She was being flown to Lutheran General Hospital’s Level 1 Trauma Center and we needed to get in there as soon as possible.  We got in the car and started driving to Lutheran General, a little over an hour away.  

It’s funny how some of this night is just gone and some of it is burned into my memory so vividly it can never fade away.  I’m sure Diane and I spoke on the way to the hospital but I have no clue what we talked about.  Probably trying to encourage each other that Caitlin was fine, that this was all just a precaution and she’d be home in a couple days.  Maybe just a broken bone.  Nothing serious.  But the reality of the situation is; you don’t get flown to a Level 1 Trauma Center for a broken bone.  Or two.  You get flown to a Level 1 Trauma Center when you have serious, life-threatening injuries.  And I think we both knew that.

As we walked in to Lutheran General’s Emergency Department, we were met by a Chaplain and a Trauma Surgeon.  They told us they were prepping Caitlin to transfer her up to the Neurological Intensive Care Unit (NICU) and they couldn’t take us in to see her just yet. 

They tried to prepare us for what we would eventually see.

They couldn’t do it.

I tried to find a couple different things to say here, but couldn’t come up with something that didn’t come across as disjointed at best and smarmy at worse.  So instead, I’ll leave you with this.

Again, love the ones you’re with, and let those that aren’t with know how important they are to you.

Happy Easter/Passover/Whatever you celebrate.

Peace