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A black velvet sign with white plastic letters read "Warren and Patricia Norris." That sign provided the 1st visible proof that my husband's parents were truly gone. I studied each letter separately and then the words as a whole. I struggled to comprehend the tragedy that so ruthlessly attacked our lives 24-hours earlier.

At about 11 p.m. the night before, my husband received the dreaded late night phone call informing him that a drunk driver had smashed into his parents' car. Their lives instantly passed away. At first, it seemed like a crazy mix-up. As the hours of night moved towards day, we realized it must be true.

It's ironic that they were killed by a drunk driver. Pat's mother died 20-years earlier, in a similar collision caused by a drunk driver. Pat's father, also in the car, survived. Unable to cope, he turned to a new companion: alcohol. Addiction consumed the rest of his life.

My husband and I had listened many times to Pat's warnings about alcohol. Sometimes she seemed intrusive. We were independent young adults who didn't think her warnings were necessary. It's easy to understand, now, her loving motivation for the warnings.

An attendant greeted us in the foyer of the funeral home and escorted us to the room where they lay. We walked down a short hall and stopped outside the room. My heart pounded; I felt like I'd be sick. I knew whatever I felt was minimal to my husband's feelings. I wished I could spare him this awful visit.

Just 2 weeks earlier we traveled to his parents' home to spend 10-days. This trip felt especially meaningful. We couldn't wait to introduce our 9-month-old daughter, Megan, to her grandparents.

My husband and his dad spent hours fishing and catching up on each other's lives. Pat and I shopped, but mostly we stayed home and talked. She told me about their insurance policies and where they were. I didn't feel comfortable with her topic of conversation. It seemed premature. Warren and Pat were only in their 50's. Besides that, I didn't understand why she told me about the policies instead of her son. I changed the subject. Pat laughed and told me not to worry. "I always thought I'd die young," she said, "but since I'm about to turn 51, I guess I'll give up that fear!" They died the day after her birthday.

I will never forget our last night with them. We had to catch a train at 3 the next morning. My father-in-law chose to rest before our departure. Pat, my husband, and I stayed up.

Their kitchen and dining room, divided by a breakfast

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