RIP, Deb

by George Dienhart

Usually, I stick to the rules that a political blog should adhere to. Today, I'm going to go off subject and share a story from 25 years ago. It's been on my mind quite a bit lately. 25 is one of those round numbers that people celebrate, or in this case mourn. It was Columbus Day 25 years ago (Oct 8, 1973) that Debra Lynn Dienhart was killed. She was my sister.

I wish that I had more memories to pass to my children, but I was only 6 years old. What I do remember is she was taken from us way to early.

She had argued with my mother that day- I'm not sure what they were arguing about. Debbie left angry, and my mother was angry. Most mothers would have been able to stop their 16 year old from leaving the home without permission- but my mother was stricken with Multiple Sclerosis, and as such confined to a wheelchair. Their last moments together were not a good mother daughter moment; it was however, a very real moment. People don't always get to leave the way they want to, and this was certainly the case with my sister.

Most of the people who were adults at the time are gone- those that remain don't like to drudge up horrible memories. As I sit here reliving this horrible night, I feel compelled to share what I know. I learned the basics as an adult- mostly from a 225 word story on page A13 of the Chicago Tribune. That is part of why I'm writing this- Debbie deserves more than having her story reduced to 225 words.

The specifics are a story that far too many families can tell. It's a story of sorrow and loss. Debbie was walking along the 4700 block of Nagle Ave in Harwood Heights. That evening she had met a friend that had previously moved away. I believe her friend, Cynthia McRae, had come to talk Debbie out of running away. Debbie had run away twice before- and been back home by 11 pm. She was a sixteen year old girl in a simpler time. "Running away" would get a get a parents attention without ending up as a lifetime movie of the week. I know in my heart of hearts that Cynthia would have talked Debbie into going home- like she and her friends had done before.

We didn’t have a luxurious lifestyle. There were 5 of us crammed into a two bedroom apartment. Sometimes tempers flared- but no one was ever hit or abused. Debbie was an emotional 16 year old girl who should have returned home that night. She did not. I remember a phone call- and my father coming out of the kitchen to get my mother. They both came out of the kitchen and were white as ghosts. My father left immediately. It was before my bedtime, so the accident happened before 8 O'clock. Then my maternal grandmother came over. Shortly later my fathers aunts arrived. Everyone was on edge. I still didn't know what was happening.

It was before cell phones- so they all sat there, not knowing what to say. Then my father came home- he was crying he scooped me up on the way to hold my mother- she was already holding my baby brother, Mike. They were crying- I asked what happened. My father said "Debbie's gone, she's where no one can ever hurt her again." I knew what that meant. We all cried. I fell asleep in my fathers arms that night. I don't know what time. In a horrible twist of fate, it was the last time we were truly a family.

I feel I am shorting Cynthia here- she also died that night. A man named Ronald Wankewycz hit them both with his car. My family always said he was drunk- the article I bought from the Tribune doesn’t mention that. He said he fell asleep. He hit 3 trees- pinning my sister and her friend to the third and then sped off. 3 good Samaritans chased him down and brought him back to the scene of the crime. I don't know who they are- but I wish I could thank them. He likely would not have been caught had they not acted.

My aunt later told me that Debbie was still pinned to the car when Wankewycz tried to escape.

The repercussions were severe to my family. My mother caught pneumonia at Debbie's funeral and almost died. Emotionally, she never recovered. We lost her in 1985. My father and mothers marriage was never the same. I think he blamed her for the argument that caused my sister to leave that day. My brother doesn’t remember her, but grew up in a drastically different environment without Debbie. And then there is me- I carry a lot of anger over this. I look at my children and see Debbie in their features. I think about how much they would have loved her- and that they will never know her. Through Debbie's absence, this savage act still shapes who people are- 25 years later.

I don't know how to end this story. Debbie- you are still remembered by all that loved you, and we miss you.

Comments

[Psych Doc]

George, thank you for sharing this today. When we lose family, it is so hard no matter what our age or what the state of our relationship. May God hold you in the palm of His hand on this anniversary of your sister's death and give you the peace that "surpasses all understanding."

[Jorgen]

George,

This is a deeply personal and human telling of an incident that shaped the Dienharts forever.
I am proud of you for having the strength and courage to relive the pain - as someone who has lost a loved in a traffic accident, I know how wrenching this must be.
Know that the memory of Debbie will remain strong through your account and that the best of her will continue through your own beautiful children.

[Jorgen]

George,

This is a deeply personal and human telling of an incident that shaped the Dienharts forever.
I am proud of you for having the strength and courage to relive the pain - as someone who has lost a loved one in a traffic accident, I know how wrenching this must be.
Know that the memory of Debbie will remain strong through your account and that the best of her will continue through your own beautiful children.

[George Dienhart]

Thanks to both of you for the kind words...

[frasypoo]

Thankyou for sharing.Its hard to go back and delve into this but she will remain in your mind as your wonderful sister.