Sandwiched
It’s the phone call you never want to get as a parent.
“Mom, I’ve been in a car accident.”
Time stood still for me last Friday night after hearing those words from my oldest son, Jonathon. I held my breath until he uttered the next sentence.
“I’m okay, but the car is totaled.”
After hearing where he was, I told him we’d be there soon, disconnected the call, and told John what happened. We quickly threw on shoes and jackets and were out the door.
I’ll never forget that sight at the intersection of Greenfield Avenue and Howe Road – multiple police cars, an ambulance, tow trucks and shards of glass and car parts strewn everywhere. And the lights. The blinking, swirling, bright red and yellow lights. My stomach flopped and I hurried through the mess towards my son, telling the public safety folks that I was his mother.
It was a relief to see Jonathon sitting in the passenger seat with paramedics by his side taking his vitals. I tried to offer comforting words to help him stop shaking, as his blood pressure was naturally through the roof at the moment.
John talked to the other driver who thankfully wasn’t hurt and whose car looked a lot better than Jonathon’s. Unfortunately, Jonathon had looked down at his radio 20 minutes earlier as rain started to fall and the pavement became slick. He looked up to see someone stopped ahead preparing to make a left hand turn, slammed on the brakes, and was horrified to still be moving and smack into the car ahead.
Hours later, as I lay in bed wide-awake, I actually started to see the blessings: The kind paramedics and police officers that I thanked profusely, the gracious other driver who reassured my son that all was okay, and the nurse from a nearby neighborhood who quickly called the police and made certain both drivers were all right.
And, of course, the biggest blessing – having my son home, alive and well, with only some minor whiplash. Yes, it was sad that he’d only owned the car for two weeks and had paid for it all on his own. But he was going to be fine and he could save up again and get another one in the future.
I couldn’t help but recall a similar incident 32 years earlier as I visited with my mom the next morning and told her about the accident. She nodded knowingly as we recalled my own car crash when I was only 16.
“Now I know how you felt back then, Mom,” I said with a lump in my throat. My poor mother had to see me lying on a stretcher that morning decades ago, although thankfully I checked out just fine and was merely sore for a few days.
Even though it wasn’t under the best of circumstances, I felt a strong connection and understanding with her that day. Talking with Mom reminded me that this wasn’t the end of the world. I survived and my life went on, and I know Jonathon will do the same – hopefully with a little more caution behind the wheel.