Luke Melhop’s account:
On March 31 last year, I had just turned up for work at about 8am. My wife Shaney and I were three days into our new ‘normal’ life three weeks, to the day, after our wedding.
I wasn’t 10 minutes sitting at my desk when the phone rang. It was my sister Kylie, speaking with a flat and shaking voice, saying, ‘‘Luke, I need you to go to a quiet place by yourself’’.
A week later, I was standing in Invercargill cemetery, surrounded by Todd’s close friends and our family, in front of a small white cross with his name on it, turning dirt over a small wooden box containing the ashes of my best mate, my brother.
Todd was healthy; he didn’t drink or smoke. He lived a consistent life and worked hard at his job. He was a qualified mechanic and was working as a heavy diesel field technician, spending long hours on the road to service Claas tractors on remote farmland.
He’d completed comprehensive driver fatigue training. All his mates would tell you that he knew a car inside out, he knew their capabilities and limits, and was the best driver they knew.
He arrived at Christchurch Airport just after midnight on March 31 after an international flight. He got a caffeinated drink, and got into his car to drive home. At some stage along his journey, tiredness got the better of him and he fell asleep at the wheel. His car crossed the centre line, and into the path of an oncoming truck.
Thinking back to the week after the accident, we can recall in detail everything that we experienced: the phone calls, the visitors, the sudden and incomprehensible decisions we had to make. Our family all agree that past that week, much of 2017 was a blur.
This year, Easter coincided with the anniversary of Todd’s accident. Holiday periods, like Easter, are typically a time to get away from the grind, blow off some steam and spend quality time with friends and family.
We spent the Easter break together as a family, without Todd. Mum and Dad without their son, siblings and their spouses without their brother, nieces and nephew without their uncle.
Every report of another road accident affects us. When the news was on TV over Easter, the room fell silent when there was a report of another a fatal road accident.
It’s devastating and heartbreaking for us, because we know that somewhere out there is another New Zealand family that is facing the shocking intensity of grief. We know the devastating series of phone calls.
There are no last words, there is no goodbye. Last year the total number of lives lost to fatal road accidents was 380. At Todd’s funeral there were roughly 400 people in attendance, and that’s just the people that could make it.
By those numbers, that’s 150,000 people affected by road deaths alone. It’s a confronting statistic for such a small country. This year, the number of lives lost is on track to worsen, and the past