Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Runaway Bride (Part I – Maxine’s Story)

This is a true story, only the names have been changed to protect the guilty. First of all you have to know my sister. She has been in over a dozen car accidents, none her fault. Her car has as sign that says “HIT ME”. She has locked herself out of her car so many times; CAA will no longer open it for free. She has lost more cell phones than you can count, including dropping on in a puddle in a parking lot and then driving over it to make sure it was dead. Everything happens to her. Including this.

This morning, May 19th, I had my 3rd Trym Gym class, so I had set my alarm for 8AM, I got up, checked my emails, walked the dogs, had some breakfast and hugged Malachi goodbye before I hopped into the shower, I said “I wanted to hug you before I went in the shower in case I’m gone when you leave”. And we had a nice hug.

I had a quick shower, hurried into my gym clothes, grabbed my umbrella, bag, keys, saw that the door to Malachi’s office where he prays in the morning was closed, (he is a consultant, prays on his knees in the morning and on large energy companies the rest of the day) and so not wanting to disturb him, and feeling that I had already said “good-bye”, I left and walked two blocks to the university.

Half way through fitness class, there was a knock on the door. The instructor came over to me and said “Someone wants to speak to you in the hallway”.

I went outside into the hallway, curious to what it could be about, and saw a policeman in uniform. He gently asked me if I was Maxine McKwitless; I said yes. I noticed Failte (my daughters’ friend from NC via Ireland) a few feet away and am really wondering what is going on at this point. Then he compassionately said these words which I will never forget as long as I live “Unfortunately, your husband…” I stopped breathing. “Unfortunately my husband’ what??? Oh my goodness, NO! My husband has been killed. In a car accident. On the way to work. Or maybe downtown. A policeman has come to tell me that my husband is dead. Not just hurt. Not just hurt and in hospital. Police don’t come to tell you that. He has come to tell me that my husband is dead”.

He continued “Unfortunately, your husband reported you missing”. REPORTED ME MISSING??? He’s not dead. Has not been killed. He just didn’t know where I was. He called the police?? “I’m so sorry officer! I guess I didn’t think to tell him where I was going. I mean I thought he knew. He reported me missing???”

Failte gave me a hug and said “We’re so happy that you’re ok. I remembered that you said I could use the car every Tuesday and Thursday mornings. I remembered that you had Trym Gym. I figured out where you were.”

The class all had a good laugh. “Somebody cares about you!”… “Does your husband have Alzheimer’s?” I’m still laughing about that one.

I went straight home and phoned Malachi who had gone to work by this time (noon). He told me about his terribly upsetting morning.


  1. I'm catching up on my reading and just saw your article from Regina that I put on my blog yesterday. I SWEAR I DIDN'T STEAL YOUR POST!! I just thought I was reprinting an email "forward".


    Hey, are you talking about ME in this post?

  2. OH MY GOD!! I want to die, I'm laughing so hard. I am going to bug Uncle Dan about this forever!!!


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