In a Moment

*Trigger warning- this post mentions suicide.*

I come here to process. That's why I'm here. I've been cycling over events that happened just yesterday and I can't get it out of my head. Fitting puzzle pieces together with jagged edges~ trying to make sense of something that doesn't make sense. Monday marked 22 years since we lost our son. I always feel an especial closeness to him around this time of year. Yesterday's events convinced me again that Andrew was there as he always is- below the surface- always looking out for his mom.

Where do I start? How do I untangle this? S had lost his driver's permit for days and found it literally minutes before it was time for us to leave for his band practice. We decided to take my mini-van because the check engine light was on in the "kid car" which is an OLD car but is a great little car from going from point A to point B.

As we were driving south on a 35mph road, I spotted a car parked off to the side of the road but in our lane facing us. I had commented to S to NEVER park like that against traffic and told him to slow WAY down (from an already slow speed) and give the car plenty of room, remarking that there could be a passenger who could open their door not paying attention and hit us. We were the only car on the road at the time so he was able to go into the opposite lane to give plenty of room.

And that's when it happened. The car- seemingly out of nowhere- plowed right into us- me. Almost head on but because S was going around hit mostly the front corner/wheel.

My initial reaction and concern was S. I told him- "You're OK, you're OK. Just pull over~ not realizing the car wasn't really moving. It felt slow motion we drifted to the side in front of someone's house. As my mind started to settle, I tried to open the door and get out of the car- that wasn't happening... I called 911 and apologized saying it wasn't an emergency emergency. We were in an accident. We were going slow and I believed all were OK but could they please send the police. We had to all be OK. Sean was going so slow. That car had been parked. He just wasn't paying attention. Right?

We both exited the drivers side of the car. A kind witness stopped to check and make sure we were alright. I let her know that we were and had asked her if she witnessed any of the accident. She said she hadn't but she saw the driver "take off."

I looked to where she was looking and saw the car. A VERY nice convertible car with no driver in it. I had wondered if perhaps the driver was impaired and worried about getting into trouble. I couldn't understand why he left. We weren't angry/ rather relieved to be OK. The owner of the house we were parked in front of came out to check on us. Another neighbor I assume had also come by. We all commented on how lucky we were and that cars can be replaced but people can't.

People can't.

That's when I gestured to the car and mentioned the other driver had left. The owner of the house, looked to where I was pointing and said, "Oh my God, I think that's my husband!" She took off running and calling his name. S and I sat down and prayed. I knew that things weren't right. Things were not making sense. Something was wrong. It was worse than it should have been. But I didn't know what was to come next.

I heard the woman's voice. Cries for her husband. And then a wail- her husband's name over and over in a way I will not soon forget. I checked my phone, it had been 13 minutes since my call to 911. I decided to call again.

Hello, I just called about a car accident. My son and I are ok but I'm worried about the other driver. The dispatcher asked me my location and let me know- yes, someone had called and that they were en route for the suicide.

Suicide?

Suicide.

And in a moment~ so much changed. All of it changed.

Those jagged puzzle pieces started to try to fit. I tried to make sense of something I couldn't make sense of.

The scene was roped off. We were talking to officers, a sergeant, a social worker. 

My husband came.

It all happened so fast- but slow motion- a blur- 

The day. The scene. The moment- all a blur.

S had said he wanted to still go to band. I wasn't sure what he knew and just kept asking over and over- are you ok. He just kept saying he was fine. He was worried about me. His arm around my shoulder. A touch on my leg just letting me know- he was with me. We were together. We were real. This was real.

As the jagged puzzle pieces try to fit I still have so many questions... And so many whatifs...

What if this was intentional? Oh my gosh. Was this intentional?

He sped up into us didn't he? How did he hit us so hard so fast when he was parked?

What if I was driving? I would have given room but I certainly wouldn't have slowed down so much. What if he had hit us at a faster speed?

And then...

What if he had injured himself just enough to not be able to exit that vehicle and do what he did? What if he wasn't able to get to that house? What if there wasn't a gun?

Would he be alive?

What if? What if? What if?

There were other things I learned- fragments of conversations overheard- me trying to force them together. Make it make sense. Make something that makes no sense- make sense.

But in the end there is a truth. There was an accident. A man is dead. His wife is grieving. Lives changed forever... because of a moment.

Of all the mix of emotions that I have felt about this, the one that I have NOT felt is anger. This person (I now believe) intentionally tried to crash into us. My car is totaled~ trust me- this is going to be BAD and EXPENSIVE and I can't even cross THAT bridge right now- but that bridge CAN be crossed. I can't be angry. We are still here. We still can cross those terribly hard bridges. And so of the emotions similar to that night we lost Andrew- confusion, relief, fear, the coming out of the fog- there is one emotion that is stuck. One that I can't shake.

Sadness.

Sadness for his wife and family and friends and community. Sadness knowing however bad it was (and I believe it must have felt suffocating- it WAS suffocating) that it didn't have to end like this.

Sadness that I am looking at my son and I don't know exactly what is (or isn't) in his head... Do I ask deeper questions? Do I probe? Do I let it be?

Sadness that I can still hear and see and feel all of yesterday. It keeps cycling in my brain and I can't get it to stop.

But perhaps above all a deep deep sadness for him. Sadness that he felt this was what needed to be done. Sadness that he chose this~ whether it was planned out for years, months, days, or perhaps just a moment.

Just a moment.

I do believe that Andrew was there. I believe the many things that happened to keep us safe happened the way they should. I just hope that lessons can be learned, that healing can happen. I am so very sorry for the driver. I am so sorry for his pain. I am so so sorry. I wish I could have changed that moment. I wish he could have too.

What if. What if. What if.

If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, please, please talk to someone. Pick up the phone and hopefully things can improve. The moment can improve. One moment at a time.

Dial 988 if you are in need of help. ANY time of day.