Wouldn't It Be Good - Nik Kershaw
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| Ron Sdraulig March 1984 |
Ron Sdraulig: Another Time, Another Place
By: Gigi Sdraulig
Part Two
One-quarter mile north of Hinkley, Minnesota on Interstate 35, at 8:55
pm, we were rear-ended by a Geno’s Frozen Foods tractor-trailer. He rode up on
the trunk of the car, causing the gas tank of our car to drag along the ground,
explode and start on fire. We were pushed down the road for 250 feet, crossing
into the left lane before becoming airborne for another 80 feet (and an
estimated air speed of 60 mph) landing upside down on the opposite bank of the
Grindstone River – 15 feet below the roadway. The transport truck came to rest
partially on the riverbank and partially on the northbound roadway of the
divided highway. I remember Mom telling us not to breath the thick smoke, Linda
was pleading for help. Sandra was silent and I believe either thrown from the
vehicle or dead from the impact. I remember staring at the flames to my left
(through the rear windshield). I was dazed and didn’t know what had happened. I
felt a tugging at my foot and then my sock came off. I was pulled at until I
was able to squirm my way out of the mangled wreckage and was safely out.
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| Sandra watching over me, Ron and Linda 1973 |
Waking up in that
hospital bed, the first thing I saw was Ron, standing at my bedside. We talked
about Mom, Sandra and Linda. I knew I had been transferred and so we surmised
that they were alive but just more seriously injured and unable to make the
trip to the second hospital where ever it was that we were. We believed we
would be reunited soon. It didn’t happen that way. I got the “You’re a big
girl…” talk from my Uncle (mom’s brother). They were all gone. My best friends,
Sandra and Linda and my Mom. All gone to be with Dad.
Alone with my news, I
cried like I never cried before. My world was completely shattered. I felt no
physical pain but I felt my heart rise into my throat and fall into pieces like
the tears streaming down my bandaged face. There was no way, that at that age I
could attempt to comprehend the gravity of the situation. I didn’t know what it
meant to have third degree burns and I certainly didn’t know how to deal with
the sudden and devastating loss of nearly ever member of my family. I cried. I
felt sorry for myself and I pleaded for answers. Why?
Oddly enough, growing
up believing that Dad was in Heaven with the angels helped me to deal with my
plight. When I asked God “Why?” I got from within myself an answer that made
sense. Mom and Dad were very much in love and went through a lot to be together
– they missed each
other, so she died so she could be reunited with her love. Sandra died because
she was the oldest – you know how parents are about their first-born, Dad
wanted her with him. And Linda, she died because she was the baby that Dad
never knew and he wanted to get to know her. I didn’t like it, I was still
angry but I felt like I understood why. That understanding allowed me to let go
of some of the bitterness that I felt at the time. I didn’t want to be the one
left. But I went further than that. Ron was not injured in the accident, save
for minor burns on his ears and I decided that was because God had thanked him
for saving my life by taking away his injuries, besides he had enough to deal
with because of his cancer.
Ron and I spent many hours as he sat at the foot of my bed just talking
and trying to deal with it all. In the beginning my eyes were swollen and
bandaged shut, so I didn’t so much see him as sensed his presence. In the
relative seclusion of my hospital world, I was not confronted with the reality
of life without Mom. Ron had returned to school promptly and was adjusting to
our “new” life with Nonna and Nonno moving into our family home and assuming
guardianship. An Aunt from Thunder Bay left her own two children in the care of
her husband (my dad’s brother) and came to spend time with me. She made me
laugh, she helped me heal, she told me I laughed just like my Mom. She reminded
me of better times and helped me to see some hope for the future. After
spending nearly three months in the hospital, I was released. I had to go back
and face school friends as a totally different person. I was an orphan with a
tragic past and I carried the scars of my life plainly for all to see.
Generally, people were either kind or stayed away, but some hurt with comments
and stares. I was accepted by most of my friends. Many didn’t know what to say.
I couldn’t help them; I didn’t know what they could have said. What do you say
to a 12-year-old orphan whose appearance you barely recognize any longer?
Being so visibly
scarred by the accident was in some way therapeutic for me. I had to talk about
it. All of my life people have asked what happened. I re-told the story so many
times that I was often
concerned that I sounded callous speaking so matter-of-factly about something
so devastating. Dwelling in my sorrow was not my style. From the very beginning
I found the silver lining in the dark clouds. I still had my brother. Although
severely burned, it certainly could have been worse. And I did survive. Truth
be told, just barely. Despite all the trauma we had endured, there was no
mental after-care. There was no social workers who monitored the adjustment
period. Ron and I were left to our own devices to cope in any way we were able.
Unbeknownst to me, talking about it was the only therapy I would know.
For Ron it was
different. No one knew that behind his mischievous grin lurked a boy in a lot
of pain. Sadly, I was not there for him either. Ron and I were not particularly
close before the accident. The four of us paired off. Linda and I (both very
feminine) versus Sandra and Ron (both more sports orientated). Life was a great
deal different with Nonna that with Mom. Nonna followed the old Italian school
of beliefs that held that boys had more and different privileges from girls.
Mom grew up this way (and from all accounts suffered because of it) and
determinedly raised her children, girls and boys, equally. After 12 years of
being raised “New-fashioned” it was not easy to conform to these odd rules. I
rebelled and argued constantly. I am very strong-willed! To this day, I
maintain that I basically raised myself in accordance with Moms’ ideas. All
this open battling had a detrimental effect on Ron’s and my relationship. We
had frequent arguments because he did not understand why I was being so
difficult. At the time I couldn’t put it into words myself. He had everything
he needed (including freedom for a boy his age) and could not understand my
attitude.
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| Ron 1977 |
He had everything he
needed that is except his Mom. I had no idea of the internal turmoil that he
dealt with daily. What child doesn’t want his Mom by his side when he is sick
or hurting? He needed his Mom. Ron and Mom had developed a very close
relationship during those long hours in doctors’ waiting areas and in hospital
rooms. Ron knew things about Mom as a person, as a wife to Dad, as a single
parent that no one else in the family did. But, his trips to Rochester
continued on without Mom, Nonna took him now. He had more operations, chemotherapy, painful
tests and the uncertainty that goes along with having a disease. In fact he had
at least seven recurrences in the following 10 years. I remember the Shingles
that he contracted when he was about 16 and we were told he was contagious and
that we should stay away. I snuck into his room to keep him company anyway.
This was the first time we discussed his mortality and he began to understand
my civil unrest. He eventually landed in a local hospital to rid his body of
this infection. This was also the first time that I visited my own brother in
the hospital and sat at the foot of his bed as he had so often done with me.
Just talking.
Ron and I developed a relationship with a very special family that
essentially took us on as their own. They were Bobbi and Gord Law and their children,
Kerri and Craig. Gord was Ron’s sixth grade teacher at the time of the
accident. While I was still in hospital, Gord took it upon himself to drive Ron
to Duluth to visit me. Things progressed and soon we began to tag along on
their family outings. We went camping, biking, skiing, even celebrated
birthdays as a family. We did the little family things together too. Shopping,
BBQ’s, playing board games, watching TV, hanging out, sharing dreams and even
arguing. In many ways, Bobbi and Gord became surrogate parents. I can’t imagine
life without them, even today.
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| Ron and I in Thunder Bay |
