We had our accident on October 30th, 1985. As we were driving in her compact car, now very compacted, going to a debate practice, a speeding truck driven by three youths whom we were fairly good friends with, hit Janet/I as we were stopped at a four-lane-intersection not far from my house (were late to a Tai-Kwon-Do practice, going some insane propulsion like 70 in a 35 - love ya, Bart Lewis). Nevertheless, I wasn't responsible or mature enough to have faith at the time, at 15 (struggling with my sister's pride and hate which continues to this day - PRAY FOR HER), so Almighty God gave me a benelovent, head injury instead --- Janet Irene was a tall, thin, very bright, buxom, bombastic, beautiful-to-behold sweetheart and a Methodist who had gone to church for years: bottomless, boundless, boldness of belief as 'wide as a church door' -Romeo/Juliet. That's why, I guess, the accident took her precious life; she had received alla the graces necessary for salvation: incredible, indelible Janet Irene passed-away due to a severe abdominal injury, as she smashed into my L skull (effecting my R) with a stunning head injury leaving me in a coma for nearly three weeks. Nothing else is really important now, now that I have experienced death and saw Heaven; this alone matters: we live for God rather than El Diablo. The 'navigator' - what my true name means in Irish - says 'full speed ahead'.
