< back to Sandra's blogDay 30 - No Skid Marks

I walked to the crash site today; there are no skid marks on the road.  Just yellow bits of paint that mark where the tyres landed.

I wondered what Dad was thinking in the moments before the crash? He had just passed the turn-off to my street. Was he thinking of me, the way I think of people when I pass by their house? Or was he thinking about the news that my sister, Dianne, had a new baby on the way, or dinner that night with Mum? Or was it something totally unimportant that we humans fill our minds with?

In any case, my Father is gone. The outcome is the same. He’s never going to enter a room again or play with his grandchildren. Meanwhile, we go to open inspections and speak to real estate agents to find Mum a new house, a new start. We wonder why, but the other driver refuses to speak to the police. The right to silence has nothing to do with us. The fact that we would really like to understand why our lives are all of a sudden a complete mess appears to be insignificant.

There are no answers to my questions. I sound like a whinger or a pessimist even. But when you watch someone physically surrender to brain damage they become a shell of what they used to be. On a psychological level, I have become a shell of what I used to be. My head is full of landmines; these shoes I'm walking in don't fit. They're crunching on my toes and rubbing my heels raw. If I could take them off and run along the beach barefoot, I'd do it in a second.  But I’m stuck. I don’t know who I am, I don’t know where I am, I am stuck in no man’s land. 

The only thought that comforts me in random moments of inexplicable truth is that the universe does work in mysterious ways. I've seen it multiple times, although it seems impossible to see at the moment. There is a growing plan, something much higher than I will ever understand or foresee.

Written on 09 Apr 2004
Over 8 years since incident
Tags: questions, why, skid marks, Sandra's story

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