Almost two years ago, the brother of a dear friend of ours was driving home from a Jets game on a rainy November evening. He'd dropped off his brother and was continuing to his own home nearby. Sadly, before he made it, his Jeep plowed into a tree. He entered a coma, where he remained until last Thursday evening when his body succumbed to pneumonia. The funeral was this morning.
The deceased had been a law enforcement professional for 25 years. Dozens of his colleagues assembled in front of the church to honor him with their official salute, including a bagpiper. Our dear friend, the clown of our social group who wears his inner child as a lapel pin, buried his head in his hands and sobbed as his best friend was rolled out in a coffin. I can't help being affected deeply when grown men cry with the intensity of small children, which often happens only in the rare circumstance when their hearts are truly broken.
Might the Jeep not have crashed if it had been traveling slower? Perhaps. Were there other factors at work, such as the glare of an oncoming car's headlights? Maybe. No amount of "what if" will bring back the 45-year-old federal agent who was a cherished friend and uncle, a beloved caretaker to his retired mother, a loyal officer in his local Polish-American club, and an all around nice guy who had seemed to have a fantastic long life ahead of him.
What we all should be able to agree on is that there is always the opportunity for disaster if we do not actively anticipate and correct for road hazards beyond our control. Yes I know I sound like a commercial for the Defensive Driving course, but it is absolutely true that the difference between life and death can be made in just a few seconds behind the wheel.
To all of you I once again say, with feeling: Drive Safely.
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