After The Work

It started with a 2 liter bottle in the middle of the road, you know, in the middle turn lane. It was there for several days in front of my apartment. I had moved there just a month prior; new city, new job, and tiny studio apartment in front of a busy road. The road also curved there and the nights were getting darker earlier as autumn was giving way to winter. Hats, gloves, and coats came out in the evening, covering those ears from Jack Frost.

I was relaxing that evening around 9pm in my cozy place, nice an warm. I had my computer to play games on, my camping cot to sleep on, an a cold Pepsi to sooth my thirst. Lost in a game of Fallout, I noticed almost imperceptive flash of red an blue lights finding their way through my window blinds. I had not been up to any unlawful shenanigans since High School, but those lights always raised my blood pressure.

I rose from my chair and peeked out the blinds in the window and was dumbfounded by what I saw. There in the middle of the road was a ladies boot. It was brown and I could see the fur lining in the rim, no zippers, just a slip on, but far up the calf. To lose a boot like that would take prolonged kicking in order to come off. Not an easy task. It was a mundane vision if it was in the house or on the back porch, but in the middle of the road? I would wager it fell off a truck by accident if it were not for those red and blue police lights.

I opened the door that faced the road and stepped outside to expand my field of vision. The frosty night froze my breath as I stood there barefoot to take a quick look. In front of the neighbors yard was a police car blocking the lane, an ambulance was pulling up, and a truck was pulled over on the other side of the road. A police officer was speaking with a woman who was holding herself, shaking her head. She was visibly upset and kept glancing to her left beyond the police officer.

I followed her gestures and was taken aback by what I saw. My breath froze as my eyes fell upon two officers were kneeling over a figure who laid sprawled out on the highway. On the cold, hard pavement was a woman in a large puffy three quarters coat. I’ll never forget its brown color, something you would wear out on the town. She had one brown boot with a fur lined rim and the other foot was just a sock. She was not moving.

One of the officers had a hand upon her while the other facing me had a grim look on his face. On one of the police cars was another mundane but bewildering sight, the 2 liter bottle from earlier in the day. It was so out of place in that scene, but it seemed to explain everything. By then the officers rose and moved away as the paramedics moved in with their gurney to take her away.

The paramedics examined her and did not start CPR. One shook her head as she gestured for her partner to get something out of the ambulance. He returned and they both lowered the gurney and lifted her onto a blanket and then lifted her on the blanket onto the gurney. The other paramedic covered her face and body with the blanket and raised the gurney, taking her back to the ambulance. After a moment the ambulance left without a siren and their red and blue lights bore silent witness of the tragedy that had taken place mere minutes ago.

There was no honk, no screech of tires, no sound of an impact that I recall. There was no blood, no family member crying out over her body like in a movie. It was just another Sunday in November where people were getting ready for work tomorrow. Just silent red and blue lights on the edge of my perception moved me from a mundane but relaxing evening to a racing heart and profound sadness for a stranger whose life had no doubt been cut short by an accidental collision with a truck. There was no sign of what was to come, just a two liter bottle in the road.

Did she wander out to the bottle to pick it up? Why would she do that in the dark evening? Was she intoxicated and used poor judgement or was she trying to be a good Samaritan and pick it up so someone else wouldn’t get hurt? Why was she outside? Did she come home from dinner at her parents house and see it or was she on an evening stroll in the neighborhood and thought to grab it quickly. I did not recognize her from the community, but then again I was new.

It is amazing to me how something so mundane as a two liter bottle change change so many lives. The driver will probably have nightmares for years to come having killed someone unintentionally judging by her face and posture. Probably had to run to the store or coming home from families house or maybe even an evening Bible study. A whole family would now grieve the loss of perhaps a mother, an aunt, or daughter judging by her sandy blonde hair. The police and paramedics have seen their share of the dead, but something so tragic as this could stick with them too.

What would would be said at her funeral? Would the bottle be mentioned? What could possibly be said? The less the better in this regard. Senseless. We all have some fantasy about how we could die, or how we would prefer to die. In hospice we try to have people pass in their sleep, surrounded by family at home. Others imagine meeting their end in battle or after a fight with an illness and dying in a hospital. Sometimes death visits us on a mundane day, over everyday things, happening to us seemingly random.

Most of us do not get to choose the manner in which we die. We may eat too much or drink too much or smoke or something that cuts our life short, but even then we don’t choose the day or hour. Some decide to end their own life, either tragically or by euthanasia but even then our depression or terminal illness is forcing our hand. It is better not to know when death may come, like having a countdown on a watch. We may be able to plan for it, but the existential dread would always be ticking down on our wrists. It is better to live in the moment and truly “live” in the moment than focus upon the day we die.

That woman didn’t think she would die when she woke that day, unless she jumped in front of the truck on purpose. The bottle is the clue, however, of her intentions, magnifying the unexpected and fragile nature of our mortality. If a lesson can be drawn from this for the outside observer is gratitude for the life we have now. We ought to count our blessings and be thankful for who is in our life and what we have. For that woman’s family, however, a lesson may never reveal itself in their grief. They may be shaking their fists at God asking “Why did she have to die, over a two liter bottle?!”

It is strange how someone’s death is experienced by others. One finds compassion and gratitude while another is visited by heartbreak. Still others are cold and uncaring for the loss of a life, may say “at least it is not me.” We must be careful to have empathy for others in society because one day “it will be me” be it a truck, a pill, an aneurysm, or a fall. The strongest of men, the smartest of women, the greatest and the worst of all people all die–often unexpectedly. Death is the great equalizer, the great humbler of men and woman. I’ve witnessed the most macho of men and the strongest most brave of woman all silenced by death.

This leaves us to one thought upon this Easter evening as I write. There was word of a man who died in Israel all those years ago who defeated death. He died in a terrible injustice on a Roman torture device (mundane in Rome’s time), an innocent man hung on a cross because of jealousy and hate. He told his friends why he had to die, however. He also knew when he was to die when he “set his face on Jerusalem”. The Son of Man had to die and be raised up so that we may be with the Father, united by faith and blood.

Jesus Christ changed human history that day, changed how we measure our time and lifespans, whether we are successes or failures based on whether we knew him. Admittedly, many have lost their life either for having faith or wearing faith like a mask to commit atrocities and hate. His name divides people into those who love to hear it and those who don’t. There are those who live their whole life in his name without ever speaking to him, wearing his name like a skin to hide their nature, a wolf in a Lamb’s clothing. Others have lost their fear of death because they hear his voice and know it well.

We are eternal people; our souls, our memories, our personality and experiences are carried forward. Unfortunately our experiences are not pure, nor are our choices always right. We hurt people on accident and on purpose. We pollute ourselves with selfishness and greed. There is no hope for a person to life their whole life in a way that we could stand before God’s goodness and light without shadow hidden in our hearts. Not until Jesus, God’s plan for us to be with him forever instead of be separated from God by our choices and nature.

All we need do is believe in a man who was seen as mundane until he began his ministry; from a mundane town in a backwater part of the Roman Empire. Just another Jewish kid in Israel. He knew the Word, however, because he was there when it was written. He knew what the Word foretold, and he knew what was in a man and woman that needs to be saved. He is the rescue plan for humanity, not by how pious we appear to be, nor by who our parents are or how much money we have, or who we vote for. The Gospel of Jesus Christ transcends all of us, all time, all divisions, all sin, and yes, even death.

So as we live our mundane lives, I recall that poor woman as a reminder death visits us all. I want to face that day with a calm heart and a peace that passes all understanding. I have seen it in others, passing from this life into the arms of Him. They pass with peace an courage because they hear His voice. It is my prayer that you hear his voice too. Just call upon his name to be saved, Jesus of Nazareth.