Crash

It was 7:15am. I left early enough so I could make it to church that afternoon.

Sunday morning marked the end of an emotional marathon I had clumsily persevered over the last couple of months-- finishing a particularly rough semester, moving out of state, my brother's last days, his death and memorial, out of state wedding shoots, making a hard decision to quit a job, and the approximately 50 hours spent driving back and forth from my Utah life and my Wyoming life. Sunday's drive was to be my last trip back to Wyoming until September or October, and I was anxiously anticipating settling down into life, my new church calling, and a fresh start. I craved the consistency of some sort of routine, and I happily welcomed the idea of staying in one place longer than a week.

The 5 to 6 hour drive (for the ___ time) is monotonous, but I've made it my ritual to listen to a few choice podcasts to pass the time. I started my drive off with a RadioLab episode about the afterlife. I recommend you listen to it, as I don't think I can adequately capture how deeply beautiful and profound this episode is. It tied in so perfectly to where my mind recently wandered in quiet moments. Life, death, life again. I moved on to an episode of Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, and then started a This American Life, but I couldn't get the vignettes of death out of my mind.

Then in happened. It was around 9:30am.

There was a silver car coming straight at me in my northbound lane. It had been blocked by the three semis it was trying to pass, so I didn't see it until it was right in front of me. There was only a second to react. Two semis were passing me southbound on my left side, so I veered right into the shoulder, trying to prevent a surely fatal collision while also keeping my car from rolling on the uneven ground into the ditch below. My tires caught some gravel, and I felt my car slowly overpower me as it gently drifted back onto the road and into the path of another oncoming southbound semi. Although I wasn't spinning out of control, like one might expect, I had absolutely no control as I slightly veered into oncoming traffic, and I knew there was nothing I could do to prevent what was to happen next.

Here we go. This is going to happen.

Those were the words that calmly crossed my mind, and instead of fear, I was filled with a monumental sense of strength as I came closer to the giant truck. Everything became a strange sort of slowness. I was rocked with a series of loud sounds that oddly seemed far away and haphazard; screeching breaks, the semi's horn, a crash, another crash, another crash. Although completely conscious, I don't remember feeling anything, just seeing and hearing everything.

I sat in my car for a moment, stunned and probably in shock. I'm OK, but confused as to why my car wouldn't start so I could safely move it out of the road. I heard the sound of steam, and out my windshield I didn't see what was once a front of a car. My delicious McHotChocolate and a soda dripped from the ceiling, my things, myself. Everything was a scattered, broken, sticky mess. I looked to see if the silver car stopped, it didn't. I looked to the semi, which had crashed into the ditch on the East side of the road, and didn't see any movement from it's cab.

I pushed my way out of the drivers side door and hurried over to the semi. Thankfully I saw a women crawl out of the cab, and some others emerge from the opposite side. I asked if anyone was hurt and told them I was OK. More people appeared. Someone called 911. A couple of men who saw the wreck happened to be first responders and stopped to offer assistance. They asked me if anyone had checked the car yet. I am the driver of that car, I told them, and I'm OK. You were the driver? They asked me again if I was hurt. No, I'm OK. The other people around asked me again if I was the driver of the car and if there was anyone with me. No, it was just me, and I'm OK. Their disbelief confused me until I looked back at my car.

It's hard to describe the emotion that flooded me. I was overwhelmed with a sacred feeling of thankfulness, and strongly felt the presence of my brother, Alex. I just stared at my car and started to cry.

I'm OK. I'm OK. I'm OK.

The vision of my family receiving the call about the accident, my death, the pain and sadness of planning another funeral just weeks after my brother's, and the heartbreaking loss of another child and sibling was so close and so... real... almost like that was the actual reality I was supposed to have. So real, in fact, I could physically feel the sadness of my family in reaction to my loss and it was utterly devastating. Reason, logic, and physics all pointed to me being dead or seriously injured, and yet... I wasn't. Something prevented it. All I could think of was Alex. I knew, without a doubt, Alex had protected me and it was nothing short of a miracle.

When the police, paramedics, fireman, and tow truck arrived, everyone's reactions were the same. They wanted to know where the body of the driver of the car was, and instead they found me. It was like they were looking at a ghost as their eyes widened, not believing what they were physically seeing. They would follow up with their years of experience and never seeing anything like this, asked me if I was wearing my seat belt (I was), and always finished off by telling me someone must have been looking out for me.

My brother was, I would tell them.

A couple days before Alex died, my dad gave him a blessing to release his spirit. He called him as a missionary in the next life and a guardian angel for our family.

Although I tend to be skeptical and greatly value logic, there is nothing worldly that can claim responsibility for my survival of this crash. It just doesn't add up. I don't know why I was preserved while horrors happen every day to others, but I was. Honestly, I feel strongly that I logically should have died in that crash, but was saved so my family wouldn't have to mourn another loss so soon.

The initial head-on impact of my car against the semi was so strong it bent the drive axle of the semi. When my car spun around from that hit, I was also hit on the backside, and the bumper of my car got caught up underneath the wheels of the semi trailer. Instead of being sucked in and rolled over (like what should have happened) I was shot back out onto the road. I suffered nothing more than a itty bitty cut on my thumb, some cool looking bruises, and whiplash (which has already mostly gone away).

I lost some things, including a portion of my camera equipment, but it's all just "stuff" and can be replaced. Money can be re-made, things re-bought, and the inconveniences of working with insurance (especially since the silver car didn't stop) is but a passing moment that doesn't matter. What matters, in the words of my brother, is your relationship with the Lord, your relationship with other people, and your relationship with yourself.

Life is a precious gift, my dear friends. Live it well.

peace,
k.