Recently I read a story about a Somalian family in Indianapolis that was like a punch to the gut. Less than a full week after fleeing war-ravaged Somalia and locating in a place much safer and more secure, tragedy struck most unexpectedly. While riding a bicycle near their new home, the family’s young girl was struck and killed by a car reportedly driven by a woman who apparently fell asleep at the wheel. If viewed with media drama we might observe many of the things that went wrong to cause this senseless loss of life, and allow ourselves to be terrified of a number of seemingly harmless events. In actuality, there is really no answer to the reverberating “why” of it all, other than the fact that freak accidents happen from time to time. I could suggest that parents should keep their kids out of the road, but I’ve been guilty of letting mine go into the street to ride a bike, walk the dog, and even throw a baseball in times past. The truth of the matter, though, is the same accident could’ve easily have happened right in the front yard. I could overstate the obvious and say the woman shouldn’t have allowed herself to drive if she was that sleepy, but then again, I’ve been just as guilty of driving while tired and nearly falling asleep. Truthfully, though, this could’ve happened while she was wide awake. No doubt whoever suggested the family move in the first place is kicking themselves for making the suggestion, and the family is crushed they ever followed through. I’m sure the motorist is regretful of leaving the moment she did, for if she’d have gone a couple minutes earlier or later, this may not even be a story. But, is there really any feelings of regret that should be harbored? I suppose if we knew how we were going to die we’d avoid the causative activity with a pronounced focus. Such thinking is fruitless, and so is looking back on such an activity and saying 1) the family never should’ve moved, 2) the kid should’ve never been riding in the road, & 3) the woman should’ve pulled over for a rest before falling asleep. It just happened, plain and simple.
As if that wasn’t morbid enough, though, I came across an eerily similar account in, of all places, the fabulous book about Walt Disney by Neil Gabler. Disney & his brother, Roy, worked hard at building the company from nothing, all the while wishing they could have their aging parents closer to them. Located in southern California while mom & pop were in the Pacific Northwest, visits were very few and far between. The reason they couldn’t be closer? money. The elder Disney’s were landlords and couldn’t leave the source of their meager existence. The boys were pouring every last bit of earnings back into the company, and had none to spare to move their parents near them. Then Snow White came to the rescue. From struggling to outrageously wealthy in a few short months, Walt & Roy suddenly became enabled to buy a house and bring their beloved mom & dad to L.A. A very, very short time later, their mother was dead: seemingly due to the faulty installation or shoddy condition of a brand new heating & cooling system. The air wasn’t been circulated properly, and carbon monoxide poisoning resulted. It bears repeating: I suppose if we knew how we were going to die we’d avoid the causative activity with a pronounced focus. Such thinking is fruitless, and so is looking back on such an activity and saying 1) the family never should’ve moved, 2) the heating & cooling company should’ve never been chosen, & 3) the system should’ve been checked and re-checked prior to the move-in date. It just happened, plain and simple.
The Somalian family will begrudgingly speak of the city of Indianapolis for years to come, just like Snow White was the cause of some bitter memories for some in the Disney clan. But our great state’s capital and the lovely friend of dwarves had nothing to do with these deaths, really. The fact is people die from a plethora of different things that shouldn’t be avoided because of it. Motorcycles, cars, zoos, jet-skiing, swimming, mountain climbing, jogging in the woods, sex, sports…the list could go on and on when it comes to some of the things people have been doing when they died.
So what’s the point? Actually, it’s just a simple note to self to value every second of life, every breath, every conversation, every hug, every meal, every walk, every passed ball, every holiday, and every other seemingly “little” thing I experience. I want to be conscious of every detail, regardless of how miniscule it may seem. I want to soak up all of other people I can get, and willingly share my best self with all who are around me.
Two songs come to mind, one from yesterday, and one fresh one from today. Steven Curtis Chapman’s The Next Five Minutes & Woody Bradshaw’s The Last Thing You Do. May we all live it.
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