Eighteen years ago on Halloween, the long-anticipated but still surprising happened in Richmond, Virginia. No, it wasn’t a visit from The Great Pumpkin, though some who’ve spent a little too much time out at Ashland Berry Farm in the pumpkin patches may try to tell you otherwise.
My sister Mary was nine and a half, and I had turned eleven just five days before the events that changed our family forever transpired. My grandma helped us finish getting ready to go trick-or-treating after my dad drove my mom to the hospital.
The temperature was comfortable even after dark, so he put the windows down and opened the moon roof. He blasted “Monster Mash” from the stereo and kept it on repeat as we went from one door to the next collecting tons of candy.
Theresa, you have definitely brought a great deal of joy to our family over the years! We love you, my dear—always have and always will.