Tag Archive for 'accident'

A dog story

Published by
boris kislitsin
 in memory. 0 Comments

I had to drop my kid to a kindergarten yesterday. As I stayed up all night long, and couldn’t be bothered with taking a bus, we hailed a taxi. A dog was crossing a small street leading up to my son’s school, and then I could feel and hear a little bump. We arrived. I asked taxi to wait a minute to take me to work - I was running out of time anyway, and was about to be late.

Driving up that small street again, I saw a small cute hairball of a stray dog, laying in the middle of the road. Obviously, we hit a dog on our way. Driver stopped and went off the car. A local man - shopkeeper from a little street shop nearby was staying next to the dog, smoking. He spoke to the driver. The street was small, and it seemed like he was not happy with a dead dog on the street next to his establishment. That, not the dog, was his concern. There was no rubbish bin or anything in sight - it is just a narrow street, without even a pavement. While they were quietly discussing something, I looked at the dog. There was no blood or anything - like this dog was just taking a nap in the middle of the street. The conversation was about to be finished; the driver reached the dog. I started to suspect he is about to grab it and drop into the taxi’s boot, to discard the poor thing later on somewhere.

The dog was not dead - it opened it’s eyes.

Continue reading ‘A dog story’

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Reality in slow motion

Published by
goofyfish
 in memory. 0 Comments

I have noticed that things go “in slow motion” at the moment of danger. Yesterday I was watching a movie. There was a head-on 2 cars collision, and the crash was shown as driver could see it, and really slow. It brought back my memory of a car crash. I wasn’t the one driving, but it is still an interesting story: I was in the passenger seat as my brother was driving. It was winter, so the roads were rather icy. My brother was eating KFC, talking on his cell phone, and thought we were in four wheel drive. We weren’t. As we headed up a hill, we hit an icy patch and went into a fast spin. Everything slowed down at once, like 5 frames a second. My brother was talking to my mother on the cell phone, and simply sat quietly, listening to her speak, as he tried to pull us out of our whirlwind of death. It felt like it all took few minutes, but probably it took 10 seconds or so.

Eventually my brother managed to bring us to a stop in the ditch (right next to a telephone pole) and said calmly, “Mom, I gotta go.” He clapped his cell phone shut, turned to me, and went “Holy SHIT.”

I noticed I had dropped my chicken. We have survived.

goofyfish

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Days We Won’t Forget

Published by
Traverse
 in memory. 0 Comments

Everyone has those days that they’ll never forget. Those days that have had such a large impact on someone that it changes them for the rest of their life.

I know I’ll never forget the happiest day of my life- the day that I got married to Alyssa, the kind of girl that every guy dreams of. I also know I’ll never forget the day that she was torn from my life.

I still remember hearing the phone ring, her voice whispering over the line. “I need help” she said, barely audible.

I remember getting to the scene of the accident. I remember her car being in the ditch, I remember the truck being on its side in the middle of the road. I remember all of the flashing lights and police officers and EMT’s. It all seems like a bad dream to me now. But the sun was shining by the time I got there. The sun doesn’t shine in bad dreams.

“You need to stop,” said a police officer as he held his hand to my chest in an attempt to restrain me.

That’s my wife!” I shouted as I saw her being lifted into the back of the ambulance.
I remember riding in the back of the ambulance, holding her small, cold hand in mine as she drifted in and out of consciousness, whispering “I love you” and “hang in there” to her, not even caring if she heard me or not. I remember the gash in her forehead. I remember the blood running down her arms. I remember the bloodstains in her shirt.

The worst part of this ordeal was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, and the doctors coming out, telling me there were no improvements, hour after hour. Eventually they told me I needed to go home. I refused.

I was allowed into her room on the morning of the second day. I sat on the edge of her bed. Her hand found mine and held it weakly.

I love you,” she whispered, her eyes barely open.

“I love you too” was the last thing I said before I heard her heart monitor flatline. I held her hand in mine, tears running down my face, as doctors rushed in and pushed me out of the room.

I’ll never forget that day. It’s a recurring dream that haunts me every night I lay alone in bed. I’ll never forget that day.

Traverse

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A little bit of death

Published by
Dalarius
 in memory. 0 Comments

I think back now, to a memory that for some reason seems incredibly insignificant, but I know for a fact that it is more significant that I expect, possibly because anything like this that happens to a twelve year old will most likely effect the rest of his or her life. There I was sitting with my mother in the living room, watching a movie. The walls are the color of dried blood, sponged over white to give it a neat textured look, the lamp on the side table just off the right side of the couch (while seated) has a beige lamp with the plastic wrap still on the cone of it. I cannot recall the movie, but the TV is sitting in a large TV cabinet wood and fold aside shutter doors with the center pieces painted black. The decorations of the room fallow a definite western theme, complete with live cacti and cowboy boot pictures. As is usual the phone rings without warning and my mother answers it. She greets the person on the phone in a happy bubbly type of voice. After a few moments she starts laughing, the manner of which I know to be hysterically, and she repeats over and over again “Your joking” “Your kidding right?”. This went on for a few minutes before she said goodbye and see you soon to the person on the phone. Then she told me that her boyfriend Trev had been in a motorcycle accident and was dead. Then she said she had to go and see his family, and she left. Well after seeing her laughing and saying that the person on the phone was joking, I possibly naturally thought that she was joking. So she left, and I finished watching the movie that we had started. After a few hours I started to worry that maybe something had happened to delay her, but she came back eventually, drunk as I later found out. I wasn’t allowed to go to the funeral of Trev, which is rather unfortunate as I never really got to say farewell to somebody I had known for years. I was never really affected by that death, I was very close with the man but it just never touched me in any way. I have since encounter death a few times, with relatives, and a friends, the only time it has really meant anything to me was when a fifteen year old boy I used to babysit died. It seems like such a tremendous loss of life, when an uncle who I used to spend every summer with died though, I only felt bad for my father who had lost one of his brothers. I don’t know weather this event is the key to my not really being concerned with death in adults, or if there’s some other reason behind it . Anyway though that’s one of my brief meetings with death. I suppose I will eventually post more, it seems to me that this would be a good place to remember people who have died. Till another time friends.

Dalarius

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