Sunday, April 24, 1988
Noon
The day began typically in the Sopshier family. Always on Sunday we would pile into the car with the 4 of us making our weekly excursion to town, lunch at McDonalds followed by an afternoon of browsing at Walmart. This particular day, Stacy, who had just turned 6, spotted a gorgeous bicycle with training wheels. Since payday wasn't for 5 days, her daddy promised to buy that bike the following weekend. This simple explanation of not having the money until Friday satisfied her because she knew her daddy would keep his promise.

Monday, April 25, 1988
5:00 P. M.
. As usual, after coming home from work, Bobby loaded up his rifle to go groundhog hunting. Since this was garden planting time, people were always calling Bobby to come shoot the groundhogs, which wrecked havoc on garden crops. Stacy and Amy were home trying to catch up on schoolwork. I was taking classes at the local community college, and I had a composition paper due the next day so I was busy adding final touches.

10:30 P. M.
The girls were both asleep. I had just finished writing my paper and retired for the night. Bobby was still not home but this was nothing unusual. The phone rang at 10:30 and Amy answered it because she had an extension in her room. She came into my bedroom telling me her great-uncle called and said, "I heard your Daddy was killed tonight." I responded by telling her to go back to bed because the uncle "doesn't know what he's talking about." By this time I was getting worried. I tried going to sleep but couldn't.

Tuesday, April 26, 1988
2:30 A. M.
Someone was knocking on the door, so I got out of bed to see who would be doing this in the middle of the night. Upon opening the door, I immediately recognized one of the county deputies. My worst nightmare was coming true. Our dog would not quit barking, which eventurally woke up the girls.

The deputy proceeded to tell the three of us that Bobby was indeed killed in a tragic car accident, which also took the life of another man. I'm sure our screams were heard throughout the neighborhood as the three of us stood in the living room huddled together.

Stacy was really scared and unsure of what was happening. In this quiet and meek voice, she asked me, "Mama, will I still get the bicycle at Walmart?" I assured her that no matter what happened, the bike would be hers and I meant it.

7:00 P. M.
After spending part of the day at the funeral home, I decided visitation that night would only include immediate family members. By this time, my mom had arrived from Alabama and if it wasn't for her...I don't know how I would have survived. It was ironic that this day also happened to be my mom's 62nd birthday.

Wednesday, April 27, 1988
7:00 P.M.
It was now time for public viewing and visitation. Over 1000 people filed by the casket paying their last respects to Bobby. The outpouring of community support is one thing I will always be grateful for. But I could not ignore the fact that across town at another funeral home, family members were also mourning the loss of their loved one, the other man killed.

Thursday, April 28, 1988
Even though the day was beautiful with springtime in the air, without a doubt, this was the worst day of my life. I don't remember too much about the actual services because my mind was fuzzy with grief. . Since Bobby was a veteran of the Vietnam War, I decided a 21-gun salute would be appropriate. With the first firing of the guns, I was okay even though it seemed like an eternity. But when the loud noises would not stop, I started crying and repeatedly telling my mom, "make them quit." On this day, my husband of 16 years and the father of my two daughters was laid to rest...buried beside his father.

Sunday, May 1, 1988
With the typical Sundays of the past now gone, we went to town. Since my mom was still staying with us for a few weeks, she was now the 4th person. Off to McDonalds we went for the usual hamburgers and fries. Stopping by Walmart on the way home, the bicycle was loaded into a shopping cart. Though her daddy was not there to keep his previous promise of the week before, Stacy was now the proud owner of the gorgeous bike with the training wheels.

Sunday, October 7, 2001
The 3 of us still get together on Sunday afternoons and head into town. After completing this story, Stacy, who doesn't remember the details, asked me to print it so she could "keep it forever." Amy, who was 13 when her daddy died, remembers it all. Driving into town on this particular Sunday, Stacy showed Amy the printed version of this story, tears starting flowing down Amy's cheeks. I thought I was going to have to pull off the road to regain my composure.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jan Sopshier - Circus World
I begin my day sharply at 6:00 a.m. by turning the computer on, reading email, and dashing off to the many forums I frequent. Then it's off to work as a Licensed Practical Nurse in a busy doctor's office where I spend the next 8 hours (usually more). When the day is over I rush home to begin my nightly rituals on my computer.

My dream is to attend the local community college when time permits. More than anything, I would love to take classes in Web Design and HTML. Those classes will teach me the things I want to learn most. I will decide after those classes have been completed in which direction I will take myself. It might have to wait until I retire in the years to come, but I'll wait patiently. After all, the internet adventure for me has just begun!