We all have single events in our lives, which are turning points for us. The best we can hope for is to find unconditional love for the event. I thank my family and friends who have helped me get to a better place after this tragedy. I hope in some way, my sharing of this event can give you hope and renew your faith.

On June 14, 1999 I was traveling with my children and some of their friends and family. We were traveling to see my best friend of 30 years who lives in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. My son and daughter were very excited to see my friend as she had helped me by baby sitting as I was a single mom for 12 years.

We departed from home at approximately 9:30 am and it was misting rain. I was very uncomfortable that morning and could not put my finger on the origin of this discomfort. We drove for approximately one and one half hours when the girls wanted to stop for breakfast. I was standing outside by the car and I asked my son if he was okay following me. He said, "Yes, but mom you are going too slow". I responded by saying that it was raining, the roads were slick and there were a lot of trucks that would practically run over you if you got in their way. He responded like any 16-year-old boy would have, with the statement, "I'll kick their butts!" I then said to him, no you won't Brian; they win. This was the last conversation that I had with him.

About an hour later, I looked in my rear view mirror to see him fighting to gain control of the car that he was driving; he was fishtailing and hit a camper. His car then landed mostly off the road, but about one third was sticking out in the right lane. I got the van that I was driving stopped in what I thought was a safe place and told the girls to stay in the van. I got out and was running back up the hill thinking, how am I going to get across this interstate to them. I was hoping that they would know to get out of the car.

About that time, I heard a horrible noise, a tearing screeching noise that sounded like metal. I looked up to see my son's car almost totally crushed by the semi, and the semi had pulled the car across the interstate to the side that I was on. I wanted the earth to open up and bury me, as I knew that they were dead or severely injured. I made myself continue to run up the hill and when I got to the car, my son, Brian was only breathing two times a minute and had a cut on his head that was dripping blood, he was unconscious.

I am an RN and I knew that this was really bad. When I looked in the back, Brian's friend, Zack was crushed. I had gone into shock and could not comprehend that Zack was dead. I reached in and touched him and told him that we were getting help. Rich, Brian's best friend was in the front passenger seat, was conscious, and said that he thought he was okay, which the doctors later confirmed was in fact true.

By that time, a lot of people had stopped to help and I could hear them calling 911. Cars and trucks were continuing to come over the hill. Some were wrecking trying to avoid the wreck. I remember hearing, "call the sheriff and get this interstate closed now". They tried to get me to leave, but I refused and just stood there.

There was a lady that came over and hugged me, I do not know where she came from, and I think she was the wife of one of the truckers. I was terrified and borrowed a phone and called my boss, Joni, so that she could get in touch with my husband who was on a plane to somewhere, I do not remember where. I told Joni that I was so afraid and would she please stay on the phone with me. I was so cold, standing in the rain, waiting for them to cut the boys out of the car.

The driver of the truck got out, a man in his late twenties or early thirties. He lit up a cigarette and several people yelled at him, telling him to get away from the car, there was gasoline all on the highway, and the engine of the car was smoking. Several men jumped in to unhook the battery so that it did not catch on fire.

A man came over to me and handed me an umbrella. I stood in the rain and I remember asking God to please go back just five minutes. I would have given my life for my son and I knew at that time that my world had just changed in a tremendous way forever.

The man put his arm around me and told me that the boys were young and strong and that he was sure that they were gong to be okay. He led me down the hill and told me to stay in the van with the girls, as the fire trucks and rescue vehicles had arrived. They were going to cut the top off of the car, to be able to get to the boys.

When I got in the van, my daughter and her cousin were both crying and wanted to know if Brian was okay, they began asking questions, needing me, but I was unable to support them, I asked that they please stop talking to me, that I could not deal with questions at that moment. It was not long, until the Sheriff backed down the hill and told me that they were going to life flight two of the boys to University of Tennessee Trauma Center, which was about one hour away. He gave me directions and told me that if I left then, I would probably get there at the same time as the helicopter. I am not sure how I drove, but I do remember being so afraid and driving on the edge of the road. There was no traffic, as the interstate had been closed. As I went down one hill to a flatter area, I had to go around the helicopter that was waiting to take my son to the hospital.

When I arrived at the UT Trauma Center and walked into the ER, I could tell by the look on the staff's faces that this was horrible. I had been on their side before and I could see the look in their eyes. They told me that they were doing a CT scan on Brian and that they had to intubate him in the helicopter. The paramedic told me that they had to sedate him, because he was fighting them and that he was very strong.

One of the father's of one of Brian's and Zack's friends at school walked in and said that he had been at a football camp there in Knoxville with his son and that his wife had called him. He asked me who was in the car and I told him. He said, so Zack must have been in the back seat, I said yes and that I wished that someone would let me know how he was doing, and where had they taken him? He looked at me blankly and said, Zack is dead. I just sat down on the floor and remember crying and having trouble breathing.

A nurse came out and took me to "the private little room". I knew what that meant, in about 3 minutes a chaplain walked in and I said to him-What are you doing here? Is my son dead? He said no, but he was just going to sit with me for a while. That while lasted 4 days. He stayed with me almost the whole time.

My daughter and I were sitting with our heads literally touching and we both fell asleep holding each other. I think that the only thing our bodies could do at that time was to withdraw to another place. I do not know for how long, but a nurse came in and told me that they had taken Brian to the Trauma unit and that she would take us there. Rebecca, Katie and I sat in the Waiting Room alone waiting for my husband and Brian's father to come. Katie's parents got there first and offered to take the girls, I asked Rebecca what she would rather do and she said that she wanted to go with her cousin, Katie. I kissed her goodbye and she left. I was not crying now, just sitting. Not even praying. Just sitting asking Why? This was my baby, why was this happening. I wanted to be the one that was hurt, not him. I was numb.

Before long, my husband Tom got there and we waited to see the neurosurgeon. He came at about 4:00 or so and told us that he was not going to give us any hope that Brian would live, he said that Brian had the worst brain injury that he had ever seen. He said that if the paramedics had not intubated him that he would have crossed over in the helicopter. He was with us off and on for the next few days, tried to keep Brian's intracranial pressures under control, but was unsuccessful.

I was unable to attend Zack's funeral, which to this day, makes me sad, but after speaking with Zack's parents, I decided that I could not leave Brian alone.

After a couple of days, in the Trauma unit, the neurosurgeon told me that Brian would have to be transferred to a Nursing Home. I said no that I would take care of him at home. He hugged me and said, I understand that but there is no way for you to handle him physically. I asked him to please let Brian stay at the Trauma Center, that I could not handle moving him. He was so kind to me and stated again that he was sure that Brian was not going to survive, and that if he did, he did not know if he would ever be able to function on any level. At that point, I asked God to please go ahead and take him, if he or she hadn't already, I knew in my heart that my son would be tortured if he remained here, unable to function on any level.

I asked that we take Brian off of the respirator; the neurosurgeon said that he was not the admitting doctor that the admitting surgeon would have to agree to do that. The surgeon did not understand how a mother would want to pull the plug after 3 days. I said look, I know that if Brian left here, went to a Nursing Home, that you would consider this a successful case, a heroic effort to save a young man's life. I told him that I totally disagreed with the decisions that were made to prolong life when dealing with patients whose quality of life is nonexistent. I communicated with him that this was not going to happen to my son and that I would fight him on this if I had to. I told him what the neurosurgeon had said, he pretty much, just ended the conversation and said he would be back later. He did not come back that day.

The next morning, he came and asked to speak with me. Brian's body was fighting against the ventilator, trying to die. The doctor was ready to agree to remove the life support. He sat me down and asked me some questions about what I wanted to do. He told me that just because we removed the life support, that Brian might live. I asked him what the chances were, and he said very slim. He said that he did not think that was going to happen, but that it might take weeks, days that he was not sure. I told him that in my heart, I knew that Brian was already gone; I loved him and wanted to release him to God. I asked that they stop feeding him that my only request was that he would stay sedated enough that he would not hurt.

As I got up to walk out of the unit, the resident that had been with Brian since he came in, reached out, put his arm around me and said, "You have just shown Brian more love than you ever have in his whole life". This one statement validated what I felt, as I agreed to let the body of my son go. I am not sure that I would have ever put it in those words, but the directness of the statement touched my heart. I am grateful to this day for these kind words.

My husband reached out to me as I was walking out of the unit, turned me around, I just fell into his arms sobbing. He held me for what seemed like a very long time, standing there in the hallway. A minister was there and he said a prayer for Brian's transition back to God. I went and sat down in the waiting room, and a nurse came out immediately and asked me if I wanted to come back in, that she did not think Brian was going to be here much longer. When I got back to his bedside, I kissed him and whispered in his ear, to walk to the light and to save me a seat, and that I loved him with my whole heart. I could not look at him, just leaned over him and held him, I looked up once at his face, his eyes were glazing over, every part to me was screaming inside, although I was quiet as I held him. When he took his last breath, I was holding him; I kissed him and said that I would see him again someday.

His funeral was beautiful, our friend Dr. Mitch Johnson talked about Brian's life as a celebration. One of the coaches at Franklin High School talked about Brian's loyalty and work ethic as a young man. The church was full, my friend Nancy counted over 100 cars that were in the funeral procession. Workmen on the side of the road, stopped work, took off their helmets, and held them over their hearts as we passed. This was the second saddest day of my life.

My daughter, Rebecca was there for me the whole way through. I am sure that she tried to be strong for me. She was the one person that I knew that I would have to find a way to be there for her. I did not want her high school years to be overshadowed by my grief and her own grief. She was really a trooper and I was surprised at the maturity and love that she showed over the next few years.

When Brian had been dead about four months, I was very afraid that I was never going to be okay, I was not sure that I was even capable of being a good mother to Rebecca. I knew that I had to kind a way to get back to my life with her and my husband Tom. I began to try to go back to work part time and was struggling at best, just to get out of bed, but I knew that putting one foot in front of the other, was the only option I had.

On the way to work one day, I got to Grassland Middle School where Brian and Rebecca both went to middle school. As I got to the school, one of the characters on the Jerry House Show WSIX 98 was on the radio. As a child and teen, the only kind of music that Brian would listen to was country music, which to me was odd in itself. As I listed to the radio, I saw Brian's face smiling at me. I began crying and asked Brian to please somehow let me know that he was okay. I knew that he was okay in my head, but my heart was so broken, that I needed to hear from him. He left so abruptly; I needed to hear from him. I told him that if I could just know that he was okay, that I knew that I could somehow find a way to rebuild my life.

I prayed to God to please let me be open to whatever type of communication Brian chose to use.
The following day, on the way to work, at exactly the same spot in front of the school, WSIX called out my daughter's birthday on Birthday bucks. She had already entered the school and I knew that I could not get back to her in time for her to call in to win.

Two days later, WSIX called my birthday out on Birthday Bucks, when I heard it, I was shocked and asked, "Is that you Brian?" I did not feel that this was my answer from him. That Friday evening, I went to church to help with cleaning in preparation for painting. We had just purchased this church, which really needed love, as it had been unoccupied for quite some time. Our church had met at the YMCA for 13 years and we were excited about having our own building.

When I got there, the man that was in charge of the volunteers asked me if I was afraid of heights. I said that I did not like ladders much, but he asked if I could work up on scaffolding. I went into the sanctuary with him, and a lady was up on the scaffolding cleaning out around recessed lighting that went all the way around the room. She had a vacuum and was struggling with it and some of the pieces of trash she was finding were too big for the vacuum hose. She was reaching up and throwing things down on the floor that were too large.

I was holding the vacuum up so that she could more easily use it, she reached up to the ledge that held the lighting and turned around and handed me something. What she handed me was a paper airplane and the way she handed it to me, in a child's handwriting, in pencil, that had been erased and corrected by the child were the letters, BRIAN written in cursive by a child Obviously learning to write his name in cursive.

A feeling that I cannot describe came over me and I knew that this was my Brian, letting me know that he was okay. After further examination, the airplane had been made out of a visitor's card from two churches ago. I jumped from the scaffolding and ran and found Mitch, our minister who I told this story to, he put his arms around me and said that there was no telling how long that airplane had been there waiting to give me my answer.

You can say that this was strictly a coincidence, however, I know better. There were about 30 people working at the church that night. I was chosen to be there at the moment where this miracle could happen for me,

This small token of love saved my life and allowed me to heal and to be there for my daughter and my husband. I am so grateful for this miracle and hope that you can find hope and love when you read about this family tragedy, which ends with a symbol of a son's love.

Airplanes have now become the symbol for Brian that I cherish. For me, this is a story of love that transcends time, space and levels of existence. I share this story in honor of my children, Brian and Rebecca. We love you Brian, and we'll see you soon. Know that we support you on your spiritual path and that you made such a difference in our lives.