A man died in front of me this morning; the victim of a single- vehicle crash. Myself, along with several other drivers, scattered quickly on the freeway to avoid a similar fate. We watched helplessly as his truck, which was on its side, was quickly engulfed in the red flames spewing forth from the undercarriage. Because of the intensifying heat, the threat that the gas tank would blow, and with the ever-increasing flames blocking all forward escape, we quickly retreated our vehicles along their prior path; inching along the berm, dodging the incoming gawkers who were now as trapped as we. All attempts at rescue were met with and rebuffed by the unrelenting flames. We could only wait helplessly for those with rescue tools to arrive…and I began to pray.
Dismay and disorientation faded as the sirens blared and those with authority arrived and took charge.
What seems an eternity was actually less than 15 minutes; the dense black smoke changing to white steam as the flames were quenched. In minutes, the fire was doused and all thoughts of rescue were replaced with efforts of recovery. We silently watched as a sheet was carried from the squad car and the officer’s profile disappeared as he bent to cover the remains. The surreal feelings were replaced with reality as we were asked to relive and recount our experience to those in charge. Walking around the high-speed roadway upon which we drive each workday, many of us called loved ones and employers to let them know we were well, but would be unavailable for a while.
We began to count our blessings of the morning, re-playing “if I had only” or “if I had not” scenarios that may have placed us closer in harm’s way. Less than 15 seconds became the consensus of the difference in time between being involved and being a witness.
It was heartening to hear a number of people thinking well of the driver, lifting their voices to God for his loved ones who did not know yet of his passing; that he would never again be there to speak with them, hug them, or share their joy. The unbridled sentiments for these people unknown to us was refreshing until I realized what I didn’t hear…nobody spoke of the inconvenience they felt at being stuck on the freeway, of being late, of missing work, of _______; you fill in the blank with what you would have complained about, because I can’t. I didn’t hear it; I didn’t think it, and I don’t want to think about it now. More than one person stated aloud that our inconvenience was nothing compared with the fate of our brother in the truck and his family. I didn’t hear any complaints. Instead, the curse of construction was now a blessing because there was a porta-potty in the center divide that we could use; the early hour was heralded because the heat of the day was not upon us and it was not yet humid; the threatening cloud cover and thunderstorm predictions were held at bay and regaled as a blessing for those tasked with clearing the scene and we were free to walk around rather than be trapped in our car, windows up, air conditioning running. Each and every person I encountered was finding the sunshine and sharing their find so that we could all enjoy it’s warmth.
I witnessed a miracle this morning…the unselfish goodness of my fellow beings.
I haven’t had many of these moments in my lifetime. I want to cherish it’s memory for as long as I can. So, I stop writing here for today because I want to end on that lovely note; before the real world creeps back in and shatters the peace that I feel.
My day began as any other. I then found myself among strangers who quickly became kindred souls. I am sad that my brother will never know the profound effect his passing had on dozens of us. His misfortune allowed us to be surrounded by others who seek for the sunshine in life’s lemon storms. I encourage you to do the same. Live as if it is your last moment; make sure those you love know how you feel; be well, and, as always,
Vicki
A Kidable Life 