Now is All You Have

I like to find things to laugh at, but not everything can be made funny.
I need to process through something sad and morbid.
No jokes this time.

I saw a man die today.
I didn't know him, but somebody did.
Somebody is missing him. And will be for a long time.

It's been a while since I've been so close to death; since I've seen a body without a soul.
I don't think I've ever seen a dead body outside a casket before.
I've never seen a person alive one minute, and gone the next.

"It must be cold to be going that fast on a motorcycle with no helmet," I commented. Bang.
And then he wasn't cold anymore. Or rather, he was a different kind of cold.

Do we call 911 or will the truck driver?
Should we go over there?
Fight the bystander effect, Rachel.
Thank God my CPR license is expired.

He's breathing, but not responsive.
A trauma nurse stops to help.
The ambulance shows up.
CPR, IV drip, neck stabilizer, a knife and other medical paraphernalia
A pink blanket over his face.

"Did you see anything? Can I get you to write a statement?"


Witnessing something like that is more traumatic than I thought it would be.
As much as I want to forget what I saw, there's something oddly comforting about reliving it.
Like a dog licking it's wounds.
And as much as I want to stop talking about it, I can't help but bring it up.

Death is so strange. So unknown.
Life is so fragile.

Hug your loved ones tighter. Breathe deeper. Smile broader.
Be intentional.
Now is all you have.