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Just Give Me The Road

by Anne Marie Romer

A very personal story of sisterhood and the cultivated resilience born from navigating family loss.

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Kathy fell into her sister’s embrace in the Advocate Illinois Masonic Hospital lobby in Chicago. “Just give me the road,” she whispered into the safety of her sister’s arms. “I don’t care how long it takes, just give me the road.” Less than 12 hours earlier, Kathy’s 18-year old son Conor was hit by a car and suffered a life-threatening brain injury while crossing the street in downtown Chicago.   

Kathy and Anne Marie navigated a fractured childhood through the eyes of a strong mother whose life example showed them how to live with gratitude and grit despite adversity. Impenetrable sisterhood was cemented by the heartbreak of losing two brothers to suicide and coordinated schedules to care for their elderly mom. They navigated life through partnership and mutual alliance.

Now, Kathy and her family were faced with a lonely and unimaginable anguish as she watched her son lay in a hospital bed with a poor chance for survival. Anne Marie had a front row seat as Kathy opened herself to grace, searched for good despite repeated tragedy, and leaned on what she knew for sure; the presence of love in all. The honesty and vulnerability with which Anne Marie writes invites every reader into the common space of navigating struggle with a perspective of hope. This is a story of Kathy’s unyielding determination to restore Conor to wellness; weaving a greater story of sisterhood into Kathy’s very personal quest to save her son. 

An excerpt from Just Give Me The Road:

Just past the midnight hour on Sunday, March 17, 2013, the doorbell rang in frantic repetition causing our two dogs to yelp with alarm. My husband, Mark, quickly rose from bed to investigate. The antennas of worry cultivated over years of motherhood heightened. Having teenagers does that. From my bed, I could see through the windows into our family room as lights turned on. I remained curious, waiting for Mark to return—annoyed at the inconvenience of being awakened. Then I saw Jack, my 16-year-old nephew, sitting on the couch. His head was buried in his hands. I was puzzled, fearing something was very wrong. A foreboding chill seized me with looming alarm. I froze.

“Anne,” I heard Mark yell down the hall, “Conor’s been in an accident.” The pit in my stomach exploded with fear. I rose to meet the darkness of this night. There would be no turning back.

Jack didn’t know many details; only that his brother, Conor was on his way to a Chicago hospital. He reported that my sister, Kathy, and her husband Phil, received some kind of emergency phone call, and subsequently left by car for the five-hour drive to be with their oldest son. Kathy instructed Jack to come to our house so as not to be alone. Considering how much our family lives were intertwined; our children were quite familiar with the route between our homes. I could feel Jack’s anxiety as he swayed back and forth on our couch, trying to keep the rise of panic at bay.

Already this did not feel like a minor accident.

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