I used to live in a part of the country where every TV station had a yearly Tornado program. They show all these Super-Cells and all the damage from the storms. I grew up surrounded by this yearly update on what to do when a storm strikes.
Don't think I'm making lite of this issue, I'm not. One morning I went to work and greeted a close friend as I did every morning. That night he died standing on his front porch watching for the Tornado that took his life.
At one time if you ask, where was Tornado Alley, any weatherman could draw a big circle on a map, and he would probably be right on the mark.
Today, however with the current state of climate change and everything seemingly becoming the storm of the century every other week, we seem to be accepting "Que se rah, se rah."
I personally have never seen a tornado. My wife from another life saw one. While standing in the back yard, fascinated by the ever-changing colors of the sky. She described it as a rainbow pulled apart over a hundred miles. She then commenced to pee her pants when she saw the twister a mile away.
That was then ... what I used to call the good ole days.
My name is Justin Wilson. I was a good student until I got into high school. I found out what girls look like under what they called style, and holy shit!
Even my buddies said I was gonna go blind. That's when I met Connie. Let's just say for the sake of this yarn I'm weaving, Connie and I hit it off. So much hitting that we were married at an early age.
Connie and I have one daughter. Her name is Tiffany, Connie called her Tiff, and I just called her one tuff little fire ball.
If anyone took the time to do the math, and many did. Let's just say there was no shotgun involved, but there could have been.
With my attitude in High School, I was going to have to put in a lot of hours if I was going to support my growing family. I did just that.
After busting my chops for just over five years I scraped together enough college hours for a degree and lied and cheated to get in with a great company in my hometown.
I found that rewards are earned not just given. So, I put in the hours, study, work and then more work. Unfortunately, I lost sight of the really important things, my family.
Somewhere along the way I began to think things in life that cost the most money was more important. It turns out I was as stupid as I thought.
Responsibility has grown and so has the family paycheck. I'm home every night but one, and on those nights, I'm usually scanning contracts or work orders. In my job, I have to be away from home about one night a week, maybe two. It never has been a big deal. I tell Connie, which night(s) it will be, and she plans accordingly.
I make a very handsome living selling and troubleshooting extremely expensive high-end Hospital diagnostic equipment. I don't do any of the repairs myself. We have a very highly trained staff that runs all over the area doing the heavy lifting.
On this particular evening, I was in an almost euphoric mood. Contracts went extremely well. Bonases would be very large. I was thinking there might be a cruise or a trip to Hawaii.
Things like that cross your mind when you are singing along to all the songs on the radio; making up words and laughing as you go along.
I had stopped for gas, so I missed the announcement there was a large tornado on the ground nearing the burbs where I lived.
I could see the cloud tops as I drove, but they seemed to be heading away from me, so I just kept driving. The first sign that something might not quite be right, Ambulances passing me headed in the same direction.
The closer I got to my house the more emergency vehicles were in my way. Panic was now growing more and more powerful. I couldn't get my mind off my wife and daughter.
When I could go no further, I parked the car and took off running. I don't remember if I closed the car door or not. The possibility of my wife or my daughter not being in my life was crushing.
As I turned the corner to what was my street, there were no houses. Both sides of the street were gone. A cul-de-sac with only twelve concrete slabs, twelve sets of steps up to twelve doorways that were no longer there. One of those empty slabs was my slab. It supported my house with my wife, my child, my hopes, my dreams, my everything.
I ceased to see anything. My eyes closed and I fell to my knees. My body shook and breathing was more than just difficult. The only thing my mind could see was my daughter's tiny body being ripped apart.
Prayers began instantly. "Oh, God why would you take her from me?" My mind quickly ran the gauntlet of all the other stages of tragedy.
"Daddy, daddy," filled the air and I began to breathe again. As quickly as I turned around my arms were filled with the loving embrace of my Tiffany.
"Where's your mom?" I asked.
Tiff, looked up at the face of her friend, Janet's, mother, Silvia Morris.
Silvia, at one time, Connie's best friend, was gently shaking her head to indicate a negative response. "Connie brought Tiffany over to play with Janet and said was going back to the house to try and get rid of a headache.
The days following the tornado were nightmarish. It seemed like every human on the planet was going out of their way to offer some kind of assistance. How do you deal with the constant reminders that your wife is gone? She was the victim of a storm. Life does continue, albeit a little different now that I had to be both dad and mom.
It took weeks and weeks of counseling for Tiffany, just to get to sleep through the night. It was beginning to work; she was that strong and feisty little girl I once knew. And she was the first to say she didn't want to be protected from the truth. I told you she was special.
If you're wondering about why I'm not grieving all that much over my deceased wife. This might be the perfect starting point.
When Tiffany was about three and a half, I was taking more college courses than I should. Working six days a week, and operating on maybe five, but usually four hours of sleep a night.
