I miss you, Luke


On September 30, 1996, I got a phone call at work from my husband, telling me to come home right away. He was crying. That's all he said. I remember walking in circles for a few minutes when a co-worker handed me my purse and told me to go. She said she would close everything up for me. All the way home, I prayed that whatever was wrong, it wouldn't be one of my two boys. "Please, God, don't let it be one of the boys." When I got home, my husband was on the phone, talking to someone about Luke, our oldest son who was 19 years old. When he hung up, he said that there was nothing to worry about. There had been an accident, but Luke was ok. He'd been talking to the chaplain at the hospital about 40 miles from our home where Luke had been taken. Luke had been hurt in a construction accident, but he was going to be all right. We began making plans to go to the hospital when the chaplain called back saying that the hospital was going to airlift Luke by helicopter to a bigger hospital. He couldn't tell me anything, but he was sure Luke would be fine. I asked him to tell Luke that I loved him and we would be there as soon as we could. We drove to the construction site to pick up his jeep and talked to the men working with him. I should've known by their expressions that my son was not all right, but I was in the ever-popular mode of denial and believed my baby would be fine. As one of the men handed me Luke's favorite baseball cap of the time, we got back in the car and headed for the hospital, 3 hours away. My youngest son, Adam was driving. When I told him his brother had been hurt, he said he wanted to go, he had lots of blood. They were a week less than a year apart in age, and so much closer than that as friends. When we got to the hospital, he was already gone. The doctor came in to the room they put us in to wait and said, "Luke didn't make it" just like that. She kept talking about everything they did to save him...but it wasn't enough. I never knew exactly how he died till I got the OSHA report back. It should have never happened. Never. Luke was so strong and good and kind. I hate it that he was alone. I'll never stop missing him. I'll never understand why. I'll never stop missing him. His birthday was New Years Day. New Years Baby, 1977. How could this happen? When will I stop screaming I want him back! I love you, Luke.


You can send email to Linda at: [email protected]
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anniversary date 09-30-97
date of post 01-11-98

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Crisis, Grief, and Healing: Tom Golden LCSW