Moments in time 

FYI I cried writing this post. A lot. I just wanted to give you ample warning in case that’s not what you’re up for today.   

Last week you know I visited the pain clinic and I am so much more hopeful than I’ve been…well, since I realized I wasn’t getting better. I remember the moment I knew. There are certain moments in life that are so profoundly life changing. Moments where you know, life is forever changed. This led me to thinking . . . . the moment Ben was hit by a car. Life. Changing. I’ve told you I would tell you this story for a year and a half. I think I’m ready. I don’t want a bunch of sadness though. If you need to leave a comment maybe just type I understand, or Oh My! Or maybe we should all just let it out and have a good cry. I’ve been crying the entire time I’ve been writing this if that makes you feel better, lol!

We all walked to the race together. We were going on a family fun run, obviously I don’t run anymore, I brought our neighbor’s children as well because it was at the airport. We were going to see all the planes. Everyone was in a fantastic mood. Ben ran ahead of us but stopped at the post before the lights. As per the rules. We caught up to him and he was so bouncy and full of joy. He stopped and waited for us, as we got closer he was in runners stance, ready to leap. I wasn’t concerned. He was waiting, I also had it in my head that the road was closed to traffic. So he’s just hanging and the rest of us catch up. He turns, still in runners pose, giggling and happy. He looks back at me, smiles and then he jumps. I see a shadow, I leap and scream, ‘No!’ Scream it! It turns out the light changed and the walk sign popped up. He jumped because it said walk. She was looking 90 degrees the other direction, at the race commotion. The light changed but she didn’t see it. There is no delay between the light changing and the walk light coming on there. Light goes red, green light and walk sign go on. She was driving an SUV and she hit him. That’s my moment.

It was strangely quiet. Husband says that for him it was the opposite, so insanely loud. For 5 hours I thought my son was dying/dead/dying and it was quiet. Isn’t that funny?! It’s all this chaos swirling around and for me it was silent. I can see people running, I called 911, there was a lot of screaming. I think it was me. I can see people running. I can see the fire trucks, the ambulance takes sooo long. I can see all of it. I heard a friend ask me what I need. I said husband. I see the woman who hit him just once, she said, ‘Is he okay?’ I’m in quiet slow motion, she asked me, ‘Is he okay?’  I remember looking at her, she has brown curly hair, and I said ‘No, no he’s not okay.’ She never speaks to us again. Not a word. Not an I’m sorry, not a how are you, how is he, I’m sorry I crushed your world. I wasn’t mean. Part of me wishes I was.  I assume she moved on with her life. But I wonder, did you fix the dent in the fender? Where you hit my son? That time you ran the yellow light, that time you were looking the other direction? I know this because I watched. Frozen in time, I see it. I’ve been to therapy and the most important thing is this is not the end of  his story, it does not end here. And then I breath and try to stop crying. Let’s all practice that now.

9 thoughts on “Moments in time 

  1. Rana says:

    think about Ben’s accident and the impact it must have had on you, your family and friends, often. I know today he’s mostly fine but it was hard to be far and hear what had happened and the story of his accident – it could have been / could be any of my kids, could have happened to anyone. My kids cross our road all the time and when my kids are outside, my heart rate goes up just a little when I hear a vehicle approaching until the vehicle has passed, every time. I think of you and Ben. Take care momma. With your new pain treatment I am sure layers of stuff you’re holding onto will come to the surface and I bet this is just one of them. I hope you get to deal with it again properly and put it to rest again for a while or maybe forever.

    • thislovelydayca says:

      It could be any of us. I know it just happened to be me. The holes all lined up. If only I’d been a touch faster. Just that tiny second. I almost had him. I could feel the fabric of his shirt, maybe that was in my head, but it was so close. The other day little pink did a twirl as we crossed the street, out of the blue, she twirled, but a car was trying to race past. They almost hit her, but I caught her. Our story doesn’t end here. Please slow down people. Please.

    • thislovelydayca says:

      Thank you. It’s been really hard. I wanted to share because it’s out there, everyone has waited so kindly and patiently. I don’t want to carry this over into another year.

    • thislovelydayca says:

      How are you doing? You’re on this epic journey. We’d love to hear about it. Want to write a post?

  2. Barbara says:

    Just stumbled across your IG and came here to read. I can’t imagine the pain you all went through. But I can relate somewhat as our family was hit by a drink driver who rear ended us at full speed. Everything happened in slow motion in my mind. I could hear the blood curdling scream of my daughter who saw it coming and the searing pain I felt in my spine. We came out of it relatively unscathed. I had severe whiplash and neck injuries but it was the replay of the accident that went in my mind over and over. My hubby and I both cringe when a car drives up behind us even 10 years later.
    I am also a teacher who has taught refugee students with PTSD and it takes love and patience to help a child over come their fears. Hugs.

    • thislovelydayca says:

      You’re so kind to stop in and say that. I’m so glad you’re okay. It’s hard to have it so frozen in your mind. I just try to remember this is not the end of our story. This is not the end. ❤️

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