(Courtesy of the Phoenix Society and Steve Lobel, author of "Recognition Beyond Burned: Portraits of Survival, Rebirth & Hope")
Today I’m one of the luckiest guys alive. I’ve been married for nearly thirty years to my lovely wife, Arlene. I have five children and eleven grandchildren. I’m co-owner of a successful television production business. Life is very good. But it hasn’t always been this way.
On February 18, 1966, I stopped at a light in my little TR4 sports car about three miles from home. Suddenly a speeding driver came out of nowhere, rear-ending me and setting my car on fire. In an instant I lost my hair, scalp and ears as well as skin from other parts of my body. But these losses were small compared to my real loss. My wife of twelve years, Charlotte, mother of our four young children and our unborn child of seven months, died in the exploding wreck. If it weren’t for the courage of three young men who pulled me from the flaming car, I too would have perished.
After about three months in a local hospital I returned home to care for my four children. The next few years found me back in the hospital for some ten reconstructive surgeries. Eventually life became somewhat normal again.
Nevertheless, for a long time afterward I was haunted by the idea that I did not rescue my wife. I realized it didn’t make sense. I was on fire and didn’t even know what had hit us, but somehow I felt guilty for not getting her out before the car exploded.
While these horrible guilt feelings lessened over time, every now and then they would rise to torture me. That was until 2004, when I acted on advice I heard at two Phoenix Society World Burn Congresses, from Dr. Fred Luskin’s inspiring talks on forgiveness. His message stimulated me to seek out the man who rear-ended me in 1966 and forgive him. We met in a local church and talked for only fifteen minutes. He told me he was so racked with guilt he had never driven again in all those years.
After that, I came to the realization that if I could forgive the man who killed my wife, I could also forgive myself. The weight of my guilt lifted and I have not felt a twinge of it since.
My name is Frank McGonagle.
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