Thoughts...

I have written and erased the first line for this post about a dozen times.

Words escape me because it is such a sensitive issue... a grim issue... but one that I still somehow feel compelled to write about and share.

I don't know. I suppose I'll just let the words pour out of me and then ultimately decide where I want to go from there.

I feel bad. I mean, I do feel better now than I've felt over the last few days... but deep down I still feel really shitty about the whole thing.

Of course I'm talking about the accident.

I think writing about it is making me feel worse, actually.

I don't want to exploit someone else's unimaginable sorrow.  Nor do Jim n' I want to garner any sort of sympathy in the least for what we experienced. While it was obviously the worst tragedy in the world for one family, standing in our shoes, the experience certainly could have been a lot worse. It could have been gruesome. It could have been us. We recognize that we are incredibly lucky to have survived unscathed both physically and psychologically.

So, that being said, it really is hard to find the right words... not wanting to exploit others and not wanting friends and family to feel bad that we had to witness such a horrific accident.

Maybe that's all I needed to say before I could allow myself to go forward and write anything...

Although, I'm still not sure where to begin?

Perhaps I'll try starting with a different story first...

I'm a nervous passenger at the best of times. I credit my bad nerves to a serious car accident I experienced four days after my 8th birthday. I had spent the weekend with my Grandma n' Grandpa Junop, and we decided to go out for a nice Sunday afternoon drive.

My Grandma was very arthritic (and therefore slow), so I remember running ahead and buckling myself into the front seat, so I could sit all cozy between two of my favourite people. As I waited for them, I can still recall how I was thinking about an ad I had recently seen for Apple Auto Glass. I imagined what Grandpa's windshield would look like smashed, and wondered if Apple Auto Glass would be able to fix it up as easily as they showed in the commercial.

Grandpa and Grandma finally got in the car and we went to Brum's Dairy for ice cream. Afterwards I fell asleep, my head on Grandma's lap. When I woke up, I noticed that the front window was smashed just like I had imagined - maybe a bit worse than in the commercial. The silly mind of an 8-year-old, I can still remember that my first impression was that it looked like a smashed lollypop that someone had stepped on. Still intact, but shattered. I craned my neck around and realized that the back window was smashed too.

Wow. What happened?

People on the street stood frozen, their mouths open. One man had a mustache and looked like my friend's dad - although I cannot say for sure if it was. Grandpa staggered out of the car and weakly called out, "Can somebody call an ambulance?" Grandpa was shaken up, but no real injuries. Grandma had lots of little cuts on her face and arms (and later on she developed some massive bruises all over). She assured me that I would be okay.

Wait a minute... what is wrong with me?

Out of all the people on the street, only one man jumped into action. He ran from his house and immediately put a tea towel on my head. That's when I realized that I was covered in blood. I worried about bleeding all over Grandpa's car and wondered how he would ever get the stains out. (Even though the car was clearly totaled beyond repair.) I thought I had a bloody nose, so I couldn't figure out why this guy was putting towels on my head. I rubbed beneath my nose. No blood. I reached up a little farther towards my forehead and saw blood on my fingertips.

I have a head injury?!

I immediately started doing a spelling and math drill in my head, worried that the bonk had left me mentally handicapped. "My name is Melodie Krieger. M-e-l-o-d-i-e-K-r-i-e-g-e-r. One plus one is two. Two plus two is four. Four plus four is eight..." and so on.

The odd thing was, I felt zero pain. The gash on my forehead - a result from smacking my noggin on the dashboard - had severed a nerve, which eliminated any feeling. In fact, the 32 stitches I required was a thousand times more painful.

The police on the scene said that I definitely would've gone through the windshield if I hadn't been wearing my seatbelt. (For this reason I always, ALWAYS buckle up and nag those who don't. So, I'm using this platform as a PSA to say, don't be an asshole and buckle those effin' seatbelts people! They saved my life and someday they might save yours!) The doctors added that my injury might've been worse had I not been sleeping and my body hadn't been so relaxed. (Although I'm not going to recommend that you sleep while driving.)

Anyhow, turns out the accident was the result of a man who ran a stop sign. He t-boned us, and our car spun around 3 times. (Which would explain why our car was faced in the opposite direction of our destination.... something I couldn't understand at the time.) Apparently he wasn't thinking and needless to say, he felt absolutely horrible. I got a nice settlement when I was 18, which I burned through much too quickly, and in a few short years I had nothing to show for it 'cept a computer, a stereo, a few U-Haul rentals (I moved around quite a bit post-high school), and countless journeys across the bridge. (If you grew up in Pembroke, then I needn't say more about that last one.)

I share this story because I've always felt that I got off lucky. I guess in the back of my mind, part of me has always worried that because I slept through the whole ordeal, felt no pain, and was awarded lots of money, that it somehow wasn't fair and that someday fate would catch up with me. I've only managed to shake this ridiculous superstition in recent years, but in sketchy weather I still get very nervous. (Even though our accident happened on a sunny day in May.)

Anyhow, returning to the present, with the first snowfall on Friday morning, I was a bit concerned about the long drive ahead of us, especially since I had read that there had been something like 15 accidents before noon. Earlier in the day, I had actually said to a couple people that I wasn't looking forward to our trip out to Granny-sit because I don't trust other drivers. I was relieved when the snow had mostly melted by the time we had to go.

Of course the lack of snow didn't matter when as we reached the Vernon overpass. Only three vehicles ahead, for reasons still unknown, a car crossed the yellow line and was struck by a pick-up truck. Jim slammed the breaks and we skidded for a bit. The tow-truck in the lane beside us pulled over and the van in front of us led the way as we crawled around the scene.

I began with stating the obvious, "Looks like there was an accident."

As we began to pull around the tow-truck, the view became more clear. I could see a man stepping out of the pick-up truck. "A bad accident," I added.

Seconds later and we were able to see the car and the full scope of damage. I panicked as Jim pulled over, as did the driver of the van.

My breath could not keep up with my words. The only two phrases I could utter was "Oh my God!" and "They couldn't have survived." Over and over and over again, until Jim reminded me to breath.

Jim began to get out and then I worried for him. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I knew that he would inevitably see something that he would never be able to erase. I felt sick.

"I'll be okay. Stay in the car."

There is no way I could've gotten out of the car, even if I wanted to.  I just couldn't. I was like one of those people on the sidewalk 22 years ago - completely frozen in horror. Even my instinct to pray failed me for the first couple minutes. When I finally did snap out of it and realized that I should be sending them positive thoughts, I found it challenging... almost hopeless. Instead all I could do was pray that there weren't any passengers and that Jim wouldn't be scarred by whatever he saw.

And so that's what I did. I waited. I panicked. And I tried to pray.

My mind wandered. I wonder if it was an old person? What if there were children in the car? I tried not to think about it. But it was hard not to.

Roughly five to seven minutes later, sirens wailed. I saw the fire truck first. Eventually Jim returned, and that's when I learned that it was an older woman and a child.

Out of respect for the deceased and their families, I will spare the details of what Jim experienced during those ten minutes. Suffice to say, there was no suffering. In fact, at the time, we did not know that they had actually died. Jim only said that they were both unconscious, and so I became hopeful. I thought of my accident and how I'm sure my grandparents must've worried for me when I didn't wake up right away. Perhaps the impact only knocked them out? I planned that on our way home maybe we could drop a teddy bear off at the hospital for the nurses to give to the little boy.

We both desperately wanted to know their status and if they'd be okay, so Jim called the hospital, who would not release any information. They instructed him to contact the police. However, believe it or not, there had been a second accident in that same location only moments after we had left, so the police had their hands pretty full, and hadn't yet heard how the boy or woman were doing.

All evening we kept checking every news site we could find for an update, but there was nothing. We decided to keep the news from Jim's Grandma, so she wouldn't worry. Of course, I really hate to admit that our choice to keep quiet made it rather difficult to then find the patience to listen to her long-winded stories about what Jim was watching on TV the day the cat died thirty years ago. We both had bigger things on our minds...

I didn't sleep well. Twice I woke up with a slam, as though I had been in the car. Jim had more positive dreams of both the boy and old woman surviving. I checked Castanet the moment I woke up, and that's when I saw the headline, "Fatal Accident in Vernon." Maybe it was just the old woman, I thought as I read further. My heart broke when I saw that they were both pronounced dead at the scene.

Later that morning, Jay called us and asked how the drive was. Jim shared that it was horrible. Jay said, "Oh, so you were speaking to A already?"

"No..."

It didn't take long for the connection to be made. Our very close friends A & R are tight with the family. In fact, the mother of the boy/granddaughter of the old woman is R's best friend. Jim didn't hear Jay correctly and for a while we thought he said it was her nephew. Jim doesn't know why Jay's words didn't register with him at first... but on Sunday, when the topic came up again, Jim learned the truth. It was her only son.

Later on Sunday afternoon, a tearful R caught Jim off guard when she called and asked if he could speak with the boy's mother, who was sitting next to her. The mother wanted to know exactly what Jim saw. I can't even begin to imagine being in Jim's shoes at that moment in time.  I only hope that the knowledge that it was very quick and clean (for lack of a better word) will help her as she heals in the years to come.

While Jim felt completely useless the night of the accident, we now understand why we were there. It was one of those things we questioned as we drove away from the flashing red lights -- why did we have to experience this? Both Jim n' I recognize several times on a daily basis how blessed we are. Quite often we also discuss how fleeting life is. (Probably more often than we should...) Therefore, we kinda felt that a major experience like this would've provided a more dramatic wake up call for someone who has been leading a far more ignorant, self-indulgent life. A stark reminder as to how fragile life truly is...

But it makes sense now. Or at least the way we choose to see it.

And with that in mind, I am kinda glad it was Jim who was witnessed this tragedy and was able to offer some sort of comfort, however small, to the poor mother. In my personal opinion, Jim is one of the most emotionally strong individuals among all of his closest friends. (No offense to Jim's closest friends... who I'm sure don't read my blog anyway... but their wives might, and would probably agree with me.) I know Jim will be able to move past this, and he really doesn't want anyone's sympathy. In fact, he would want you all to know that he's doing just fine. (And just my two cents here -- That's not Jim "trying to be strong", as some friends have suggested. He really is strong, and he is actually doing okay. Just very sad for the family, as we all are.)

So yeah... I'm not sure how to end this, except that we may or may not attend the child's funeral on Friday. It depends on if the mother is okay with it. While we received the service information from A, neither of us want to be there if it'll make her uncomfortable. I haven't heard back from R yet on that one...

So... I guess that's all I have to say.

Life is precious. Count your blessings.