When The Unthinkable Happens
On Saturday, I received a text from my sister-in-law, saying there had been a bad car accident involving people from my hometown, Walkerton. This small-town community of 5,000 people had just marked the 25th anniversary of the Walkerton water crisis that had claimed lives and made many people ill over contaminated drinking water.
This car accident occurred on Friday, and it involved 4 teenage girls (two were 16 and two were 17) and their teacher/coach, who was driving the SUV home around 4:30 p.m. from a baseball tournament hosted in Dorchester, Ontario.
More details of the accident are still emerging, but what has been shared by police reports is that their vehicle collided with a transport truck and was then struck a second time by another SUV. Three of the girls were pronounced dead at the scene. One girl died in a medical helicopter. And the teacher quickly succumbed to his life-threatening injuries. Absolute devastation.
When I received this text, I was out with my daughters celebrating my eldest turning 16 years old that day. I know her birthday is always a tough one for her because this was the day 6 years ago that my husband/the girls’ Dad, was driving her and her little sister home from a birthday breakfast to celebrate her birthday, and he had a stroke on the way home in the car.
Thankfully, no one got hurt, and he was able to stop the car safely on the road. But my husband Jeff had to be taken by ambulance from the car, all of her fun birthday plans to go to Canada’s Wonderland that day were cancelled, but bigger than that, her Dad never returned home again. He was completely paralyzed down the right side, which meant he was too weak to continue on with any palliative chemo. He died three months later of stage 4 esophageal cancer. So on this day, I try to layer in as much fun for my daughter as possible because I know it is such a complicated, tough one for her. And I know her Dad would want this for her, not memories of him being taken away from her on a stretcher.
But after reading this text from my sister-in-law, tears began to spill out onto my face. I couldn’t imagine what these families were going through. These are people we know. I went to high school with some of the parents of these girls. We grew up going to church together.
I remember being at my parents’ place in Walkerton when I was pregnant and we were watching the Santa Claus parade. One of the Moms in our group, Jen, noticed I was busting out of my winter coat and offered to give me hers that she had used not long before when she was pregnant with Olivia. Olivia was one of the girls who died in this accident.
So as I travelled with my daughters on route to dinner this weekend, I couldn’t help but notice the dichotomy of what was happening. Here in this moment, I had this opportunity to celebrate my daughter. Yet, in this same moment, Jen and her husband, Dan, and Kaylie nee Spence(another beautiful soul I went to school and church with), who lost her daughter,r and all of the other families were as devastated as any people could be.
They would give anything in the world to be able to celebrate their 16-year-old daughter as I was doing that day. I told my girls what had happened back in Walkerton. I tried to rally. To celebrate my daughter because I could. No one is guaranteed the next moment. But we have right now. Yet, I felt like there was a rock in my stomach all night. I felt like I had to use massive restraint not to cry and cry. These beautiful girls had the world in front of them. This teacher/coach was trying to do his best for these girls and the community. There is so much loss here.
This past week, I had been worrying a lot about stuff. The normal human type of stuff that causes us to spin away in our brains. Then word of this accident came.
All of the people in these families would have woken up on Friday morning and thought they were starting a somewhat ‘normal’ day. They would have had no idea how this day would unfold. That this day would change their lives forever,
I find we often go on autopilot through life, worrying about the little stuff. Not to devalue our very real emotions as we work through important issues. But this is the big stuff. The stuff that really does stop us on a dime. That makes us hold our loved ones closer.
I am thinking about these families and the girls and their teacher so much as I know so many others are. Some members of the Walkerton community are asking people to set out a pair of running shoes on their front porch and leave a light as a remembrance of these precious lives and a way of showing love to their families.
Families and friends impacted by this tragedy are experiencing enormous pain. No matter how badly we may want to make this better for them, it is impossible. There is no fix for losing one of the most important people in life at such a young age. But, I know from going through grief that when people around you hold space for your grief, send you love, and support, these things matter.
I invite you to comment with a little heart emoji or if it feels right to you, say your own private prayer for them or send them loving energy, put running shoes on your porch with a front light on, or if you know them, support them more directly in any way you can. These people are going through the unimaginable. And any piece of love that the world can send them right now is most certainly needed.
