We had a family dinner that night. The girls' dad had just passed away two weeks earlier and they were flying out to CA for his funeral, where he wanted to be buried. Their uncle was here to fly home with them. They were 13 and 15.
I remember going to Lexi's house where no one would answer the door. I remember waiting in the police department lobby alone, waiting for an officer to come talk to me. I remember calling the hospital emergency room, asking if there had been any accidents and being told there wasn't. I remember being told something about 3 girls in a truck, a barn and a fire...the word fatalities. I remember going to my ex-husband's duplex with the chief of police and telling my oldest daughter and her uncle. I remember the officer asking me if I had family in the area, was there any one he could call? I remember saying, "Call my pastor."
I remember calling my sister in California and saying "my babies" and "I need you." I remember crying in the grass with my pastors, and our youth pastor driving 3 hours back home in the middle of the night after he heard the news.
I remember not sleeping and having to tell my 6-year-old son that his sisters, his best friends, were not coming home. I remember my oldest daughter telling me that I needed to sleep and my telling her that if I laid down I would never want to wake up.
I remember people, lots of people, but I cannot tell you exactly who. I remember one of Daniella's best friends coming to me, crying hysterically, and for a few moments I thought she was Gabi and my heart soared.
I remember coffee and people telling me to eat. Someone taking my phone from me to answer calls. I remember someone driving me back to my house and my heart pounding as I had to walk into my house, thinking that it would never be "home" again. I remember thinking that surely this was all a dream and that I would wake up and it would all be okay.
I remember thinking I needed my sisters and my best friend.
