Keith James Pebler Jr

This memorial website was created in the memory of our beloved son, brother, nephew, cousin and friend, Keith Pebler Jr.. My name is Kate Smeland Pebler, and I'm his mother. I created this website. I'd also like to invite you to visit his myspace site at:
http://www.myspace.com/nursepeb Keith was born at St. Peter's Hospital in Albany, New York on June 23, 1987 and died on the side of Route 32 in Freehold, NY 3/4 of a mile from his home on August 17, 2006 at the age of 19.

Keith's car hit dead on and gouged out a telephone pole before the car split in two, throwing Keith into the back seat. The car folded in on him accordian style, killing him instantly. We have candles all around the ground around the pole at all times for the bypassers to light.

We will all miss him forever. He had just graduated high school two days after his birthday on June 25th, 2006 and was set to enter Schenectady County Community College this September for Associates in Fine Arts Degree as he was an amazing sketch artist, self taught. Never took a class in his life. He learned all he knew from technique books and a little wooden posible model of a man. He drew mostly men and women and some cartoon characters. He had a real talent and the patience to develop it. He would spend hours upon hours on one drawing in order to get it right. He was so rapped up in his art that he'd tend to forget the small things in life like appointments, errands, homework, what he was buying on an errand. We called him the absent minded professor. He was also just at the beginning of learning how to play guitar. He had bought an electric base guitar and amplifier in the past year and had been practicing.

He'd do things like make a date with a girl and then forget when it was. Then he'd call to chat with her out of the blue. He did this with a girl named Sara Dean, who I know wouldn't mind my sharing her name here because she'd tell you the story herself. They were just getting to know each other and, when he called she said, "what is this a sick joke?" Keith said, "What do you mean?" Sara explained they had a date. Keith flew off his seat and said, "Oh my God, I don't believe I did this, well yeah I do, but hold on there, I'll be right there!" and hung up. Sara said what takes about a 20 minute ride took Keith 10. He was so apologetic when he got there that she knew he was sincere and wasn't disrespecting her. He was just a ditz in some ways. We would send him to get milk, tuna fish and bread at the store and he'd come back with milk and bread because he couldn't remember the third item. Then he'd go out again for the third. You just had to love the artist about him. It's just how he was.

The day of the accident went very much like this. I thought my world was finally knit and comfortably secure until approximately 7:00 am August 17th, 2006 when I was feeding pudding laced with medication to one of my patients where I work. I’m Keith's mother, Kate. I'm a psychiatric nurse on the night shift at the largest mental health hospital in New York State’s Capitol. Going about my regular duties on pay day of all days, I had no idea what was to transpire. I wound the shift up, typed my nursing notes, counted off the narcotic medications and gave report to the oncoming charge nurse. Then gleefully I left, having escaped a looming mandatory overtime shift, and skipped to my car to shop. It was pay day after all! We’re not allowed to carry cellular phones in the hospital and mine was off. Since I was only going to Walmart and home, I never thought to turn it on. It wasn’t my habit.

I got to my car, unloaded my gear and proceeded happily in search of pillows and towels for my newly redecorated bathroom. I took my time getting home since there was nothing pressing to do. It was summer and my 19 year old, Keith was graduated and had his own work and social life. My 15 year old son, Jesse, was simply sleeping in, I was sure, enjoying summer’s lazy offerings. It wasn’t until 9:15 or thereabouts that I pulled sleepily into my driveway. I parked the car in the drive and Jesse and his friend Fred were sitting on the bench. Jesse leapt up and opened the car door in one motion with the cordless in hand. He yelled, “Mom, where have you been. Keith’s dead and I’m not joking!” I sat in my car a moment, looked up at the sky in disbelief and tried to cry. I couldn’t cry to save my life. It was all too horrendous. Then Jess shoved the phone in my face and said, “It’s Dad”. My husband works out of town Monday through Friday and was crying, yelling and going out of his mind. I finally had to yell into the phone at him to pull himself together so he didn’t drive himself off the road (having just realized he was on his way home from New Jersey). Once we hung up, Jesse told me all he had done.

We think now that Keith got up early for work, went to gas his car up five miles from home and come back to the house briefly before going to work. The accident happened right up the road from our house. He was probably tired because he’d been with a Navy buddy on leave for the first time in a year and another buddy the night before. The Three Muskateers were finally together again! They had all been drinking Schmirnoff Ice from about 11pm to 2am when they ran out and the guys estimated that Keith had four total, as Keith wasn't a fan of drinking. Anyway, about ¾ of a mile before he would have made it home his driver side front tire hit the guide rail and began to ride it. There were no skid marks and the odometer read the speed limit. He rode the guide rail about 10-15 feet and the car turned to a point that the roof hit a utility pole dead center. The impact caused the car to sever completely in two. My son was thrust into the backseat as it landed on the woods side of the guide rail and crumbled onto it’s self. The front half of the car landed on the other side of the rail in the road. Keith’s skull was crushed by the metal and his brain avulsed. His body remained completely intact, meaning nothing was torn apart or off. I know all of this first hand because I viewed him at the funeral home later that day. Because it is cathartic to me as his mother, and also because I believe many of his teenage friends and young adults need answers to their unanswered questions, I've written a detailed description of what I viewed of my son at the funeral home followed by my 15 year old, my husband and my 32 year old stepson.

About a half hour after I left work the state troopers came there to locate me to impart the news of my son’s demise. As I was nowhere to be found, a trooper knocked at the door of our house and asked my 15 year old son if there was a neighbor they could go to that he trusted. Jesse took him to a trusted friend down the street who had a son herself and delivered the news there. Jesse digested the news with much stifled emotion, I’m told. Always the practical one, he rushed home with his friend, Fred, who had been at the neighbor’s house overnight with her son, Rob. Jesse called my 28 year old son, Bobby, in NJ, my 32 year old stepson, Jason who lives locally, my brother, Ted, near the city, my husband, Keith, and my cell and work phone. He apologized to me for not knowing my daughters phone number! All this from a 15 year old that not only received this news alone, but also lost his very best friend and brother. After Jesse told me all he’d done, we hugged and loved, and then went into the house to begin going through the motions. We thanked Fred for sticking by Jess and he returned home. A different trooper came shortly after and questioned us for about half an hour until I finally asked him to leave so we could go to the funeral home to view my son, or what was left of him. He made polite talk and took his leave graciously.

Died alone in a one vehicle car crash on August 17, 2006 at the age of 19 three quarters of a mile from his home in Freehold, New York. He was on his way to work at 7:00 am. He died immediately of skull fracture and severe brain avulsion on impact.

I have chosen to elaborate on the severity of that skull fracture and brain avulsion here and on myspace website. The reason for this is that my son did not die from just the run of the mill little car crash. The owner of the body shop his car was towed to said he hadn't seen a crash such as this in about 20 years. This was huge and it impacted my heart immensely. So, here it goes. When Jesse and I went to the funeral home and were allowed to view him, I went in first privately and opened the bag myself. That's how I wanted it and they allowed me because I told them I'm a registered nurse able and experienced at pronouncing people dead in the State of NY. However, I wonder if any family member can ask for that accommodation if they adamantly request it. I think they may be allowed. Proceeding on, I unzippered the bag. Jesse had wanted to view Keith also, and I told him yes, but to wait outside the room until I had Keith prepared and I could prepare him for what he would see of Keith. Of course, Jess couldn't wait, and, as I was gazing at my baby lying on that gurney with shrapnel, glass, dirt and pebbles smeared about his head and body and his head having the skull caved completely in shatters on his right side leaning over onto the left and his brain scattered about in avulsion, my breath caught up in my throat. It was devastating me, and then I looked around to find Jesse to my side looking just as or more aghast. He said, "oh my God" in one throaty breath and then turned and left saying "I need to get out of here". I had to linger a bit longer, hoping the funeral people would care for my son for the moment. But this son was mine for a few moments more. I had to know what more happened to him. I took his head in my hands and turned it full frontal to mine to see if there were anything to recognize on the left side, and there was. Where there was a displaced eye on the right, his eye on the left was still within the range of it's socket and there was still some semblance of a face that I could recognize. He also still had his full, lustrous lips. I gazed into that one baby blue eye for a full 40 seconds at least telling him how much I loved him and would miss him, that he was my darling and most treasured son. Then I kissed him full on his sand crested lips and said I will dream of being with you again forever lovey. I put him back down gently and zippered him back in his final bunting similar to the baby bunting I zippered so long ago.

Many people are afraid of seeing death, let alone of touching death, especially raw, not so pretty death. I'm not one of those people obviously, and this comes out of necessity. My son could not have been viewed even after the most gifted mortician did his or her work on him. Humpty Dumpty did it this time so there were no kings horses or men to put him back together again. If we were going to make it real to us in our hearts and brains it had to be now and then. That's why I gave my youngest the option and I'm so glad he took it. I believe it's given both of us peace to begin our grieving process. Later in the day my husband and stepson did the same.
When my other son and daughter arrived, we gave them the option also but they declined. That's fine, they had the option and made the choice they needed to make. Grieving is a personal journey and everyone's journey is to be respected.

So, here lies the beginning of Keith's ending. There will be more to come on what transpired between his beginning toward his ending. And yet, let me rephrase that better. I don't believe he ended. His body, his physical entity ended. I believe he transcended to another parallel universe where he is perfecting his talents and abilities and is not bothered by a body as we are. Call it heaven or whatever. It's better than here and there is no pain, nothing corrupts, there's no illness or hunger or cold. It's serene. It's a place I want to be when it's my time. I now truly have a place on both sides of this parallel universe that pulls at my heart strings. The one on this side encompasses my living husband, sons, daughter, grandchildren and dear friends. The one on the other side draws me now with my son, Keith, first then my mother, sister, father and both sets of grandparents, various aunts and one in particular my aunt and godmother, Aunt ReRe. To say the least, I'm torn between two worlds. I'm happy to live my life out and to the fullest, perhaps not so full at present, but eventually I will want that too. But, pray God or Divine Spirit, don't alow me to live to 100 and be without my Keith for 54 years. Please don't do that to me.