Traveling home last night, the freeway came to a stall.
"Drat! Gonna be later getting home" was my first (selfish) thought.
You know the drill . . . I maneuvered the car a little trying to glimpse the cause.
Red and blue lights flashed in the distance of the chilly evening and we discussed exiting the freeway and taking a detour. We decided to continue on I5 southbound as traffic was moving a little and the scene was not too far off.
Traffic was diverted onto the right shoulder and a SUV was on it's side in the middle of the two lanes, looking like it had been on a wild ride. As we passed, we witnessed a group of officers in the median holding up a yellow tarp.
The lighthearted mood in our car turned somber as we surveyed the scene. Not good.
Turns out our assumptions were correct. The crumpled body of an 8 year old boy was on the other side of the tarp. He had been ejected from the vehicle and had died at the scene.
My heart and mind keep returning to that place. At milepost 234, a family forever changed.
As I was doing laundry on Sunday evening, his mother was probably sitting at the bedside of the 13 year old brother that had been seriously injured in the crash - heartbroken with tears streaming down her cheeks. While I whisked the children off to school the next morning, she was planning a funeral.
When was the last time she told him she loved him? Held his hand? Made him his favorite dinner? Read him a story?
We never know.
There's a message for me . . . Make it count. Be kind, be patient, be loving and embrace even the simplest things.