Hanna Helen Ohlund

This is the toughest post I could never imagine writing. On August 7th, my little 24-year-old sister Hanna was in a car accident that would take her life. I will never forget these days. The disbelief. The sound of Jackie's cry, the look in her face. The complete sadness. The pain I felt in my heart as the neurosurgeon explained that she no longer had any brain activity. The happiness we felt when we learned her organs could help save or better the lives of 6 to 8 people. And the increased sense of love and family we all felt, sadly due to the loss of our dear Hanna.

Hanna was on her way home Wednesday, August 7th when for some reason, her car veered sideways and she struck a electrical pole. Not long before she texted her Grandma to talk about coming to stay with her. Not wanting Grammy to be alone since Grandpa Rog had died just days earlier. And that's who Hanna had become. A sweet and caring young lady. Just 24 years old, with seemingly an entire life to live.

I didn't hear about her until Thursday while at work. I had a morning meeting and prior to this meeting, my phone was on vibrate, stuffed in my desk. During this time, I unknowingly was receiving texts and calls. After my meeting, I saw an email from Charity. The subject "Call your brother ASAP", no message. My heart sank. The last time I had a very similar (if not the exact same) email from Charity, my dad was being air-lifted to Indianapolis after his fall from the balcony. I grabbed my cell phone to make a private call. I was horrified to see multiple missed calls...Sven, Aunt Jane, Buddy. And texts from Jennifer and my mom saying "We're so sorry." and "Let me know if there is anything I can do." WHAT? I still had no idea what was going on. I assumed the worse but still wasn't prepared to hear my dad's muffled voice tell me, "It's bad...It's really bad...." WHO? WHAT? "She was in an accident..." WHO? WHO? "Hanna...She's not going to make it." NO! How can this happen? This is something you hear on the evening news. But it's not happening to you. Not your family.

The next three days we stayed at the hospital. Everyone. We did everything we could to support each other. We cried. We laughed. And we cried some more.

Just the Saturday before the accident, we had dinner at The Stray Dog. This was the evening before Roger's funeral. The Stray Dog was Hanna's idea. It was Julie, Pat, Hanna, Buddy, Jackie, Sven, Charity, Matt and me. A nice rooftop dinner. As I sat across from Hanna and listened to her talk, I was so impressed with her. She was an adult. She was thoughtful, caring, mature, fun. Suddenly I realized that the 11 years age gap between us was gone. We were both adults. Hanna and Devin were people Matt and I could hang out with. Yeah, I need to make a note do do this, I thought. And while I'm so thankful that Hanna was happy and in a good point in life, it also makes me so sad that that's where it ended for her.

Devin holding Hanna's hand for the last time

 

 

 

She who leaves a trail of glitter will never be forgotten

Saturday, August 10th, Hanna became a hero to approximately 8 people as she donated her organs. We had our final moments in her room, talking to her, holding her hand, and kissing her head. Then we said our final goodbyes to her physical body. Never will we say goodbye to her completely. She will always be with us.

 

Birch Lake in July. Happiness radiating from her.