It actually started last week. I think Friday.
I was driving west on Touhy just past Diane's house at the intersection for the community center at Western.
Police cars and tape for a hundred yards on the North side of the street. I thought a bad car accident, lets see the damage.
I saw a big dump truck and suddenly behind the police cars, there laying on the ground a kids bicycle.
Bent in half with a school bag a few feet from it.
I got so sick and couldn't get the scene out of my mind. Days went by. Actually a week.
Today with Karolyn we were on the way to the same restaurant as last Friday. As I approached the scene I noticed ribbons and a cross on the tree and there sitting on the sidewalk a man, about 40ish.
His back hunched over, his hands around his extended legs. We knew he was related to the accident victim. But kept driving.
Of course with a tear and a throat jam.
When we got to the Restaurant Peg Murphy asked if we saw him. It seems she was in the e.r. when he came in to check on his son.
The man was the victims father.
There he was, on the spot where he lost his son. I couldn't help but think of past deaths in the family.
One day, we have our loved ones.
The next day or suddenly, the body is empty--gone.
Forever.
I rode my bike back to the scene and wanted to record the scene on my camera.
It was back to normal. No ribbons, no cross, no grieving father.
How many times was this experienced during the life of Mankind. All the grieving.
Through thousands of years. How many men and women.
Times that saw Socrates, Washington, Lincoln, Roosevelt.
All the fathers in those times. I'm sure their tears and grieving was no less than this poor father today.
My eyes are tearing writing this but I felt so close to that father sitting there.
I'm sorry I didn't take a photo when the father was there.
To remind me how lucky we've been.
Is that what Memorial Day is for?
That's enough.
jim.....I'm sorry I couldn't put into words what I feel in my heart.
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