Somebody’s family, somebody’s friend
Standing by the corner dairy waiting for the bus, I glanced down at the newspaper. Leaning over to read the front page in a brisk Wellington sea breeze, I could not avoid the headline or photo of family whose loved ones collided with catastrophe and tragedy on a motorway at 4.30am several days ago.
My heart raced and stomach churned. Not my family. Not my friends.
But the fact it was somebody’s family and so many people’s loved ones and friends, made me feel incredible empathy. I realise I’m an empath which means I feel a portion of other people’s pain and grief. One never expects the horror of unexpected carnage in one’s own life. I’m sure this family didn’t.
A husband and father went searching for his wife when she didn’t show up, and horror of all horrors, he happened upon her mangled car at the crash site.
The other pair had been speeding down the highway the wrong way for a good deal of time. They died. They, too, have family.
I travelled every morning at that time for 20 years, I will again soon, and I bear witness to very little traffic. Generally you see a few trucks, a couple of cabs, a few workers returning after night shifts. Sometimes you bear witness to uni students finishing up at parties and you smile as you observe them walking, staggering, rolling in to the gas station for a nice sobering pie or three. You don’t see speeding cars coming at you in the wrong direction.
Last week a young man and his pregnant girlfriend were involved in a terrible crash. A motorbike versus truck crash. He lost a leg and she lost her baby. There is speculation she may also lose a limb.
I heard someone say quite harshly, ‘‘Bloody idiots passing a truck. How stupid to have your pregnant missus on the back of your bike! I have no sympathy!’’
I reeled back in horror.
‘‘Hey, despite all that, and, yes, how incredibly disturbing for the truck driver I agree, we are talking about a young couple whose lives have been scarred forever. An able-bodied, very young man, has lost his leg, and that young woman lost her baby at six months gestation. Take away the wrongs and rights. Take away the very poor decisions, and we are talking about human suffering and incredible grief.’’
I said this in a measured but firm voice.
‘‘ I don’t care. They were idiots,’’ they replied.
Idiots? Really? So heartache, pain and grief don’t apply to
people who make reckless choices? I don’t feel that way. People who make poor choices still feel pain and honest, excruciating grief. A Catholic priest here in Wellington was at an intersection. He had the right of way, when a car came screaming through. She T-boned him and took out three other cars including an Uber. There were injuries.
How had it happened? Why had this seemingly normal woman ignored all road rules and wildly careered in to the priest? Her cat. Her cat was loose in the car, went beserk, as many a cat will when travelling in cars, and attacked the driver by jumping on her head and freaking out. Most of us know that cats and cars don’t generally mix, but again, a reckless decision.
My ex-husband always said, and I imagine still does, ‘‘The only thing you do when driving is drive. No distraction. No risky behaviour. Kids in the back don’t fight. Cats stay in a pet crate. Dogs don’t sit on your knee, watch your speed. Wear a seat belt always, even going 50 metres down the street. Stay off your phone. Never pass unless you can see clearly what’s coming. Never pass on a corner. Never pass when there’s a hill in the road because you never know what’s over the brow. Don’t ride motorbikes (his very best friend was killed on one at 21). And again, I repeat, never bloody touch your phone!’’
What then if a car crashes into you when you’re just living your best life? A rogue car hurtles head on into you at speed, motoring madly down the wrong side of the highway?
My heart goes out to the innocent, the mourning, the reckless and the foolish. Death and loss are universally tragic and all-consuming. When you add shame, regret and guilt, it must surely become almost too impossible to bear.
Take notes from my straight as an arrow ex-husband. I will continue to do so, while also privately grieving for all those affected despite their part, innocent or guilty, in road tragedy.
‘Idiots? Really? So heartache, pain and grief don’t apply to people who make reckless choices? I don’t feel that way.’