posted on Nov, 6 2015 @ 09:51 AM
My most traumatic childhood memory has taken quite a toll on my adult life.
When I was seven years old, I was sitting in class when a police officer came in and promptly escorted me to the office. I was notified of my parents
being involved in a tragic automobile accident. The officer told me that they were driving on the highway when they rear-ended a cement truck at 70
miles per hour. The impact of the collision caused it to start pouring cement into their convertible. Unable to escape the vehicle due to their
injuries and the airbags trapping them in their seats, the car rapidly filled with concrete and they were unable to move at all once it solidified. I
was escorted to the accident scene by the officer. The last time I ever saw my parents they were sitting in that car up to their necks in solid
concrete, not even able to turn their heads. The last thing my father ever said to me was "Son, I don't know how you're getting in the house
tonight, because the keys are under the cement on my keychain."
Those words will stay with me for the rest of my life.
The funeral planning was also a traumatizing ordeal. It would've been too expensive to have them removed from the cement block inside the car, so we
just had it towed to an outdoor funeral. Even hiring a crane to lower the car into the grave was expensive.