My dad was driving me to high school as usual. It was an ordinary day, sun was out, nothing of note other than there was a bit of a wait to get from the feeder road onto the freeway so we could then head to my school. After a bit, we finally were able to get around the reason for our longer than usual wait. I remember pointing it out to my dad briefly in passing but then off to school I went to deal with homework and teenage problems.
Late in the afternoon, I was summoned into the office for a phone call. The strict details of this part are kind of fuzzy in my mind because I kind of freaked out, but from them telling the story later on, one of my parents was telling me my brother had been in a major accident. A semi truck had not been paying attention and had not noticed that traffic had slowed down to a stop, and he had run straight into the back of my brothers first ever car.
The truck had gone in deep enough that it completely crushed the trunk and back seat all the way into the front seat where he was of course sitting and it had consequently smashed into him. They said I was shaking according to the lady in the office. I whispered something to the effect of, "is he dead," and they quickly told me he was in the hospital. By some friggin' miracle that only the universe knows, he required a bit of work to remove all the shattered glass and various bits from him and he required 50 staples to the back of his head and would need to be hospitalized for a couple of days to monitor his brain function and physical responses.
The terrifying bit to me always other than him almost losing his life, is remembering telling my dad on the way to school very clearly that I thought the mangled car we passed that had held up traffic looked like my brothers, only to find out later that it actually was. I try not to think about it, but I still pass this location from time to time, and the visual almost always pops into my mind about how I could have witnessed my brothers last moment on earth and not even been able to do anything.
It's decades later. No one in my family really talks about this horrifying accident or this day or the recovery. Since my brother was young at the time, doctors were very optimistic about his recovery from his injuries and he did indeed recover fully in a little over 3 weeks.
Ironically about a decade on from this, I had jury duty and the case involved a truck driver who had done the same exact thing to someone else and I was completely triggered picturing my brother. Needless to say, I was not picked for that trial. I used to always think since he's okay now, and things worked themselves out, I should be able to fully move on, but it's still the spot, and the clear vision I have of his mangled car smashed up like a tin can that bring it all back from time to time, but also remind me that life is precious and we should not take our loved ones for granted.
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