We had just come back from a day of family fun. When we got to the Sunshine Bridge, and had gone a little ways, the traffic was backed up and barely moving. Since the traffic on the north-bound side of the bridge was moving normally, we knew something was not right up ahead, we thought an accident must’ve happened. As we crept along, my grandson kept asking what was going on.
“Did someone get hurt?” he asked his mom (my daughter, a nurse). “Mom, maybe you can help the people in the accident.”
We watched as the medical helicopter flew in and hovered over the boats that were gathered below, and as we got closer to the top, my husband, my daughter, and myself were thinking “Oh dear God no.” My grandson said, “Where is the accident Nana?”
At the top of the bridge there were many rescue and police vehicles, and they were all on the right side of the road. On the left side of the road, now with traffic cones all around it, was a vehicle with the emergency flashes on, and on the rear side of the car on the road were a pair of women’s sandals. My grandson doesn’t know what happened. My husband would think the women who did this would not go to Heaven (I don’t believe that God is that cruel). My daughter, the nurse, would think, If I had been there, maybe I could have grabbed her, maybe I could have saved her.
If we had been ten minutes earlier while leaving our destination, if we were fifteen to twenty cars earlier on the bridge … maybe I could have told her, “I know how we persecute ourselves. I know the torture we put ourselves through. I know how it grabs us and takes hold of our lives.”
I know that we can be right next to a person who is hurting so deeply and we do not know or care. I know how people can cry out and we do not hear. Maybe I could have told her that I care.
Between you and me.