Love Knows No Color Pt. 25

And yet, hanging over it all was a black cloud of sadness. Shavonda just couldn't seem to shake the guilt no matter how hard she tried. She hadn't had further symptoms of memory lapse since she'd stopped taking the klonopins, but Prozac alone wasn't doing much to help her. She still occasionally had the panic attacks. I saw them and held her tight through them, because I now knew what to look for. I now recognized them as they struck, and was there to be her rock.

Through it all, Shavonda kept up a brave face in public, and most people would never have known she was hurting, let alone how bad. But I knew. I had to do something. So, on Monday night while she slept, I was on the computer again. Searching. And finally, finding. From the names listed as survivors for the obituaries of the people who died in the horrific car crash, I had tracked down the parents of the deceased couple.

I debated whether or not I should contact them. I didn't want to cause them pain. But I had to do something to help Shavonda, and I hoped they'd be willing and able to help. So, while my queen slept soundly I composed and sent off emails.

"I am writing you in regard to the fateful events of 27May2007. I understand you lost loved ones in a car accident that day. I have no wish to cause you pain.

My wife to be was severely injured in an accident maliciously caused by the same individual, in which he ran her off the road. She was pregnant at the time, and as a result lost the baby. Mr. Grazetti was, regretfully, her fiancé at the time, and she blames herself for the events that happened that day.

By writing you, I am attempting to bring her some peace of mind. She is a wonderful woman who was caught in the middle of a bad situation that spun out of control that day. If it would not cause you too much pain, would you be willing to talk to her? Tell her your feelings about what happened so that she can heal?

I would be forever grateful if you did. And even if you can't, thank you for taking the time to read this.

Sincerely,

Jefferson Waite"

In each email I included my cell phone number, and a link to my Facebook page so they could see I was legit. I wasn't sure exactly what I expected, but I hoped that somehow, some way, reaching out to those people would bring a little bit of comfort to everybody involved. I didn't know for sure how they felt, but I had a hunch they'd see Shavonda as a fellow victim, rather than the cause of what happened.

My queen was hurting, and I didn't know what else to do for her. But I had to do something, because seeing her in so much pain was breaking my heart.

To be continued...