Embracing the Shadows
Embracing the shadows—for without, we would never know the light.
The Albert Pike flood took my loved ones away, leaving behind an emptiness hard to bear. Grief overwhelms, and sadness leads the way, but within these depths, I finally have found the strength to share.
In the darkest night, a spark will ignite, a flame of hope that will never be lost. For within the depths, I’ll find the strength to fight, and reclaim my spirit, no matter the cost.
In the face of tragedy, my purpose unveiled to be a beacon of hope for others in despair. Through advocacy and love, I vow to prevail, bringing light to those burdened by life’s unfair.
I originally planned to write about my childhood for this week’s article. However, the timing and circumstances surrounding my writing have guided me toward discussing the events of this week 13 years ago. I realized if I were to watch my life as a movie, this is how it would play out. That terrible week would mark the beginning of my life, then the following 13 years, eventually getting around to the first 29. Interestingly enough, that’s exactly how it feels present day… pre-accident life and post-accident life.
Today, as I drove through northern Arkansas, battling rain, flood warnings, and inner turmoil while attempting to keep a calm façade for my six-year-old daughter, it became clear that this was the topic I needed to explore. While contemplating this article, I realized I have never delved deeply into what occurred that night or the subsequent years. I have mentioned fragments of the story and focused on the positive aspects, but the deeper and more complex truths have remained largely unaddressed. I unintentionally closed myself off from discussing important details, even with those closest to me. This realization highlights the walls I had built around myself, preventing me from sharing my pain and experiences. So here I am today, in a hotel room, climbing another uphill battle. This time, though, I’m changing the pattern. I will do what I feel is right and talk about it. ALL of it.
Since that fateful day, not a single moment has passed without me clenching my jaw. As Frank Bidart astutely put it, “Memory can be a form of punishment.” I remember every detail of that night and day. It is all etched into my consciousness. I was in a state of shock, and only through the mercy of a higher power, although I could not acknowledge it at the time, did I manage to endure.
Regrettably, I cannot share the entirety of this story in this article, as it surpasses the capacity of my heart and the space available on this platform. God says to focus on Him, not the storm, so that’s what I’m doing today.
Thirteen years ago, I began my week handling the Hot Springs LifeNet insurance enrollment. They have always been one of my very favorite groups, so I was talking to my friends, helping them with their insurance, and going over the incredible vacation that my seven-year-old daughter and her best friend (BFA, if you will) planned for us all. We were leaving after that enrollment and heading straight to where my husband and I had gone as children, where we had gotten engaged, where we had spent our honeymoon, and many other incredible trips. Kylee and her "BFA" were so incredibly excited, and so were we.
The night before we left (June 8), Clark and I sat on the back porch and talked about how lucky we were. “Things legitimately couldn’t get better,” we said, “We are so very lucky.” We would pick up Kylee's best friend the next day and head to Albert Pike, our favorite place. The girls wanted to tent camp instead of using a camper, so we pulled out our old tent and looked forward to it. My mother and stepdad were set to join us the next day, June 10, and would be with us for the rest of the weekend. We were thrilled.
We drove through the campgrounds and went to our favorite spot. The place was packed, and that was really unusual, but we loved seeing all of the kids out there enjoying nature. We swam in the river and rode our four-wheelers with an attached crate that held my mean dog Rocky (kidding, he was only mean to men, with the exception of Clark Willis). We cooked on the grill and used the bathroom in a five-gallon bucket with a toilet seat on top (the girls loved this). We had the best time.
We went to sleep, and it started raining that night. Not hard, but enough for us to wake up the next morning and realize our tent was worn and leaking. We weren’t too worried since the weather looked great, and it would most likely dry during the day. Clark cooked his incredible breakfast spread, and then we went to the nearest area where we could get a signal to make our calls and update everyone about how things were going. My parents were on their way to stay for the next two days, and we were excited to get back and meet them. First, though, we had to make a quick stop at the local Dollar General to grab some toys and some canned mac and cheese (requests from the girls, of course). They got more than they should have and were amused by the cashier who mentioned how cute my twins were. We joked about that all day long!
When my mom and stepdad came, I immediately noticed that my mom wasn’t wearing her jewelry. That may sound normal, but if you knew her, you would have known there was never a second she was not wearing her cross, her wedding ring, and her hoop earrings. Other things she might take off, but not those. She didn’t really have an explanation but said she just felt like she should take them off. It was weird, but I thought maybe she had simply turned back into the camping country girl that I knew growing up. Silly me… God knew.
We had a great day and ended up cooking steaks and mac and cheese (yes, out of the darn can), which was delicious. Then, we went to our tent, which had not dried from the night before. The girls had the idea of making a tent out of the back part of my mom’s SUV with their sleeping bags, so we decided to do the same with ours. All parked beside each other, we went to sleep and were out pretty quickly.
I couldn’t tell you what time it was, but I think it was around 4:00 am when I woke up to my stepdad knocking on my window with the most frantic look on his face. I was still asleep and not understanding, but he was, for the first time in the 24 years I had known him, shaken. He said my mom’s car was gone, and he didn’t know where they were. I quickly told him she must have taken the girls to the bathroom up the road. He gently said she wouldn’t have left here without telling me.
He looked at Clark, gave him a nod, and Clark said we’d go look for them while my stepdad wanted to go look along the riverbank for them. I thought he was crazy. I was worried about my dog Rocky, who had slept outside and wasn’t where he always stayed, so I asked him to look for him instead. I was positive I knew right where Mom and the girls were. I’ll save you all the details, but as time passed and we walked through what was truly the closest thing to a war zone I could imagine, I knew things weren’t right.
I still could not fathom the worst-case scenario, and I truly believed my mom must have gotten out of it all ahead of time and just wasn’t able to let us know. Even seeing campers and trucks in the trees and pieces of concrete road thrown up and over vehicles… even hearing the cries and screams of children and adults calling out and hymns being sung by a church group that was camping nearby… even witnessing people praying for all that were missing, and body bags lined up as we walked by… I still believed all was okay. But I knew Clark didn’t.
My stepdad had been gone since we left him early that morning, and we walked aimlessly until we saw LifeNet paramedics (the same ones I had told about our plans for this exciting trip) on the road. They greeted me and tried to calm me when I saw my stepdad walking toward me with rangers. His face was all I needed to understand that life would never be the same.
The unfolding of events after this moment is for a different scene, another article; they feel like they come from a different life. That’s when I found darkness and a void that will never be filled. That’s when I realized ignorance is bliss.
You can look at this in one of two ways: 1.) That was the ending of true happiness for me because I’ll always have this void, or 2.) I didn’t know what true happiness was because I hadn’t ever truly been able to appreciate it. One question that persisted within me was whether I should be grateful for surviving such a calamitous event. Finally, I can unequivocally answer with a resounding “Yes.” The forthcoming articles will reveal the irony and unexpected ways in which God has intervened, leaving an indelible mark on my life and reaffirming His presence.
