Highland Park’s Darkest Day
Jacki was such a positive, giving person. She would always make time for everybody. She worked for our temple, so we’d been wrapped up in temple life for 30 years. When we’d go to a restaurant, invariably we couldn’t get through a meal without somebody coming up and saying, “Jacki, how are you?” It used to annoy me. But when you think about it, it’s a large temple, and Jacki was there for basically every life event.
I wanted to walk out of that hospital and have everything go back to normal. I knew it wouldn’t. My body’s not the same. I try to do as much as I did before, but I can’t. My strength isn’t there. And I’m not going to sugarcoat it: I’m scared. The depression, the trauma didn’t kick in until my wounds had closed. It’s like my mind made sure my body had healed first. That was the point where I had to seek therapy. The PTSD manifests when you least expect it. I could be volunteering at my child’s school and just get lost in my thoughts.