Life is full of various traumatic events.
Being potty trained.
Learning to walk.
Falling off a bike.
Being bitten by a dog.
Getting stung by a bee.
Getting hit by a car.
Losing a friend.
Losing a best friend.
Losing a family member.
Being robbed.
Being assaulted.
Paying taxes...
etc...
The list is infinite. There are strange, weird, unexpected things that happen to us all the time that traumatize us on one level or another.
I need to talk about one. I've been in denial or shock or something for about a month now - and it needs to come out. I decided this last night, when I realized it was the 6th or 7th time I'd bawled myself to sleep over this event. I'm in need of a comfort of sorts, a hug, a "I'm so sorry you went through this" or a "is there anything you need?"
I suppose it's too late for those kinds of things. I'll just tell you what happened.
I drove from MN to UT on July 18th so that I could get home in time for my parents and brother to go on a trip. I was going to watch the kids and hang out with one of my best friends. I was on a freeway leaving Nebraska/just entering Wyoming. It was dark because it was night... it was really late, but I don't remember the exact time. There hadn't been anyone on the road for miles and miles and it didn't look like anyone was going to be joining me on my late-night expedition through the midwest. No one, save the fireflies. It was my first time ever seeing them with my own eyes, and I was definitely in awe.
I was driving fairly fast... 75 or so, when I saw a large semi up ahead. Because I am deathly afraid of semi trucks, I instantly slowed down. I looked down to change the radio, and when I looked up again the semi had managed to do some sort of acrobatic move and was now colliding with an RV that had been driving in the same lane.
Both went spinning uncontrollably, and then both tumbled off the road. The semi was swallowed by the darkness and the RV rolled and rolled... but not before launching the driver (or maybe the front seat passenger) out of the windshield. Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. The RV joined the semi in the abyss of what I can only assume were vast corn fields. The man, launched through the windshield, was now face-grinding the pavement. Meanwhile, I was pulling over as quickly as possible. I threw my car into park and ran full speed toward this now motionless entity laying on the pavement. I stood there, looking down at him, hoping he'd move. I looked around for others - no one. No other drivers. No other passengers. I called the police... although I think one of the vehicles had a first response system because they told me police were already on the way.
I knelt down toward the man, and gave him a shove so that I could see his face. I don't lie when I say there wasn't much left of a face at all, just a bloody mess and lots of crud. I couldn't tell if he was dead or alive, but either way I couldn't leave him. If he was alive, I couldn't let him suffer alone. If he was dying, or dead, I couldn't let him die alone - a bleeding mess on a freeway.
I sat/squatted down on the road next to him, rubbing his arm almost as if to comfort myself more than anything. I held him as best I could (he was heavy, so I mostly just cradled his arm) and waited until finally an officer arrived. He asked me what I knew (for contact info and the likes), and I told him everything I saw. He evaluated the man and looked at me with a very sad face. He told me to get in my car and go, that more help was close behind, that I didn't have to stay there any longer unless I wanted to. I feel like I looked at him for a very long time, although it was probably only a few seconds, and walked over to my car. I sat. I cried. I drove and cried.
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Sometimes I feel like the world asks you to keep these things kept inside. "Don't burden others with your grief."
Sometimes, you can't grieve unless someone else helps ease the weight of the pain.
Sometimes, you just need to talk about it.
