What Happened?
This is a detailed explanation of the days leading up to, the day of, and the day after the accident.
On August 27th, 2024 at around 1:30pm Erin Elizabeth Larsen transcended from her earthly body and rose into the heavens. The details of how this came to be continue to be somewhat unclear, but I am actively working on facing the events that transpired in order to begin to heal and better understand what exactly happened on that day.
What I know:
8/26/24: We spent the day with heavy hearts preparing for our departures. It had been one year to the day since I held my paternal grandmother’s hand as they unplugged the ventilator. Sepsis had taken her suddenly leaving the family reeling in grief, little did I know in a little over 24 hours I would be doing the same for Erin as she too crossed over.
It was a Monday, and we were both in really healthy places with regard to rhythm, routine, and happiness. As late evening settled in, probably around 7:00 pm, a soft yellow/orange light washed over the house, the was cool and calm. We were saying our final goodbyes to one another in a manner that felt strangely ominous. I hugged her 3 different times, which was uncharacteristic for our departures, but she was leaving for Portugal the next day, and I for Ohio that evening. As I left I remember saying “Well, I guess I’ll talk to you later” feeling this strange energy that I couldn’t understand, and she replied jovially “Yea, tonight!”. As though she was saying, don’t think twice babe, it’s alright. This would be the last time I would see Erin in her vibrant and sassy self, we waved goodbye and I had a pit in my stomach, wishing we didn’t have to part.
Earlier that day Erin told one of her client’s, Fran Rada, who was like a second mother to E, “We’ve got to have a conversation with Landon’s father, he bought family grave sites next to his grandmother and I don’t want to be buried there.” This story was relatively unprovoked and caught Fran a bit off guard, but she of course comforted Erin, making her feel heard and understood as only a mother figure can. Fran shared this with me after Erin had passed, just another surreal moment to add to this tragic story.
That night I was traveling in our 2021 Toyota Camry to drive to Ohio for a week of work. I signed a new contract requiring me to be in town every other week for 4 day weeks and work remotely for the other week. Erin would be driving our 2004 Toyota Tacoma to Blacksburg, VA to meet our friend Chris Pohowsky, who would drive Erin to the airport in Roanoke on the evening of 8/27/24. Erin and I had multiple discussions about which vehicle she should drive to Blacksburg, VA, which was 2 hours away. The Camry was the safest and most comfortable, but she declined my offer to take it, saying “you need it babe, to drive to Ohio”, which I reluctantly agreed. Then I said, well take the van! She said, “it doesn’t have cruise control, I’m not driving for 2 hours without cruise control, it’s terrible for my hip!” Ok, then take the Tundra, “You need it to go to the property in Pocahontas County next weekend, she said, with the most loving conviction imaginable”. And so it went…
She would be driving our 2004 Toyota Tacoma, her truck, the farm truck, the following afternoon to Blacksburg, VA. I remember telling her, that’s a big jump for this old girl, she has 228,000 miles on her now. But, she had hoped to arrive early so they could ride mountain bikes together (which was another reason she wanted to take the truck) and then he would drive her Roanoke, VA where she would fly out that evening for Portugal. A place she had been so excited to go to, the location of our honeymoon that we canceled due to COVID, a place her friends raved about, a place she was called to in order to take a retreat instead of lead one.
Despite her insatiable desire for adventure, on this particular day E was feeling fatigued with travel. In just the first 8 months of 2024 she had been to Sri Lanka, Thailand, Bali, Belize, Santa Fe, Maine, and Annapolis. Not to mention her weekend trips around the state of West Virginia and back to Ohio for weddings.
24 was her lucky number and she was doing it big, yet in her heart wanted to stay home. I too wanted her to cancel the trip, but as a friend told me long ago “You can’t cage that bird”. And so I didn’t push it, I had learned not to make her feel guilt about her travel or to harbor resentments against this part of her being that I loved so much. That was part of the deal, she needed it, and even if the initial departure was painful she was always so happy once she set sail. We remained committed to the plans we had made, despite something feeling different about this launch.
That night she was sad and lonely because I had Osa bear with me and she was in the big house by herself for what was the first and last time. I remember carrying a lot of guilt that I chose another year of work for the sake of a pay increase and benefits for us both, but would again be split between two places, which brought on a lot of stress to our lives.
8/27/2024: Erin woke by herself in our home and began scrambling to have the house totally dialed for departure. She had a principle of leaving the house sparkling for whomever would be receiving it next, and in turn she expected the same treatment for her return. At around noon she departed, sending a text to Chris Pohowsky, “I’m leaving, it’s a genuine miracle”. The Tacoma didn’t have air conditioning at the time and it was one of those late August scorchers. She was rolling south, windows down, music cranking, just wanting to be where she needed to get to.
I was in North Canton, Ohio just coming back from lunch when I saw she was calling. I was so excited to get an update, we had sent a few messages but I hadn’t chatted with her all day. Erin was always calling me to check in, tell me about her day, give me some orders, share a dream, all of it, all the time. I was her sounding board, and she mine.
At around 12:45 pm or so she called me to chat. She was in great spirits but definitely roasting and shared that she couldn’t chat long because it was too hot with the windows up. While talking, she stopped and said “Ope, here comes a cop, I hope he doesn’t pull me over, I’m doing 85 mph”. To which I replied “Erin! you can’t do 85 in that truck!”, she responded with “It’s fine, I’m going down hill”. Then she expressed relief after he sped past her to address something else. I honestly don’t remember much more of the conversation. I’m pretty sure I reiterated to please take it easy, and was relieved she didn’t get pulled over and didn’t have much farther to go. Around this time she said “I’ve got to get these windows down, I love you and will talk to you later”. We hung up and I returned to the office, again feeling guilt that I was in an air conditioned car and she was in the farm truck.
The accident: It was around 1:15 pm, I was sitting in my cubicle working on something insignificant, when my phone began vibrating and making the emergency sound. It was an automated text from Erin’s phone that said “This phone has recognized that it was in an accident” and gave me the location which was in the westbound lane of highway 460 between Pearisburg and Blacksburg. Erin was traveling east at the time of the accident. She purchased a new iPhone a few days prior and set me as the emergency contact. The phone texted me automatically and shared it’s location and the traffic pattern, which was blocked on the northbound lane. I frantically began calling her phone. I must have called it 7 times. My heart fell out. I began calling emergency services in the Roanoke area and making preparations to drive to Virginia, from Ohio.
I drove to my parents house to get our dog Osa, and my clothes. At the time I was insisting on driving but my father, Jeff Evans, wouldn’t allow it, he would drive, our car. I wanted to pick her up in our car to go home. My father and I commenced what would be the most difficult drive of our lives. I could not have done it without him, 6 hours straight through, I was fielding phone calls from police, doctors, family, friends, coming to terms, just wanting to wake up from my worst nightmare.
The report, which I still haven’t seen as of the time of this writing, but was relayed to me through multiple state troopers, was that she was in a single car accident with no witnesses. She rolled the truck over a guard rail and through the median. Erin was thrown from the vehicle and was found dead on the scene. Paramedics arrived after an unknown period of time and revived her, she never regained consciousness. A life-flight helicopter took her to Carilion Hospital in Roanoke, VA, where she was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit.
While driving I was in contact with the officers, the hospital, the surgeon, and multiple family members and friends trying to make sense of what was happening. Chris Pohowsky, Erin’s friend from Roanoke, and her Aunt Debbie, her mother’s older sister were the closest to her and managed to be by her side from about 4:00-10:00pm. My father and I arrived at the hospital at the same time Chris, her brother, and his wife Jess. The four of us and Osa walked into the ICU at the same time to be greeted by Chris Pohowsky and Aunt Debbie.
Their energy was sullen and strong. Chris was wrapped in a blanket and assured me she was as beautiful as ever despite what she had been through. They both embraced us, and Aunt Debbie said “It’s time to say goodbye”. At this moment the doctor on duty came out through the doors and urgently told us she was destabilizing and we needed to hurry to get to her before she passed.
We entered the room and her condition stabilized almost immediately. When I saw her I was struck by my reaction, I was numb. It was real. And yet, she wasn’t disfigured, and appeared to be at peace. The smell was a fusion of sterility and blood. She was cold, the nurses were graceful, the message was clear, she was a Dweller on the Threshold, looking down on us, waiting for us to come to terms with what was.
We stayed by Erin’s side for 5 hours, riding the waves of emotion as they cam in and set out. I requested they let her go prior to the strike of midnight so there would be no confusion about what day she actually crossed over, but that wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. I got an additional 3 hours with my wife. Whispering, crying, praying, wishing, holding her hand with my head buried on the side of the bed, wondering where she was, waiting.
One year and one day prior, I held my paternal grandmother’s hand as they took her off the life support. Grandma Fran passed away suddenly from sepsis, and when they unhooked her her heart beat for about five minutes before she officially passed. When they unhooked Erin, I was lying in the bed with her expecting a similar arc, but E’s heart continued to beat for what must’ve been close to 20 minutes, unsupported. This may be common for younger people in those circumstances, but for me, in that moment, it was the most powerful expression of love imaginable for this life, for her family, her friends, for me. And so we carry that inspiration into this next chapter and cherish every waking moment we have, because life on this earth is precious and we never know when we will be called to step through the threshold.
Stay Tuned,
Landon Walker Evans
