Sherry wrote to me about an exceptional experience she had. One day, in early fall, she was walking on a bike path enjoying the sounds of the birds and watching the leaves falling around her when she heard the sound of metal on metal.
As Sherry ran ahead, in the direction of the sound, she saw pieces of debris, bike parts and personal belongings spread out over the ground in front of her. Two bodies were lying in separate directions on the path.
The first cyclist wasn't moving, he was lying flat on his back as if he'd done a somersault through the air over his handlebars. The second cyclist was breathing heavily and erratically while blood gushed out of his side. He'd been thrown into the brush and was impaled by a branch.
Two other walkers appeared that had seen the collision and one had a cell phone and was calling 911. Sherry stayed by the bleeding man trying to comfort him as they waited.
Because of their remote location on the trail it took the ambulance over 30 minutes to find them. The first man had started regaining consciousness and was able to give his name and ask what happened. The second man was dying.
Sherry staying with the dying man, holding his hand and singing to him--trying to sooth him as much as possible. The only words he said were I love you.
Sherry stayed with the man until the paramedics arrived even though she knew the man was already dead. The paramedics had to remove her hand's physically from the dead man's and she was taken to hospital in extreme shock.
Once Sherry was well enough to leave the hospital and go home she felt as if nothing made sense anymore. She'd been faced with a senseless death and couldn't understand why. Sherry found out where his family lived and went to see them. She wanted them to know that he hadn't died alone. Sherry felt somewhat better after reassuring his family but she still asked herself 'What am I supposed to learn from this? Why was I there?'
One day, when she was out watching skaters in the park, not really thinking about anything at all she realized why she'd been there, on that path, that day.
Some of the skaters were laughing and playing, chasing each other and they'd fall down and get back up and do it again. They were joyous and carefree and alive. The fun that these skaters were having was something Sherry had never really experienced in her life. She'd always avoided it, not ever feeling comfortable with it within herself.
Sherry realized she'd been missing something very vital, and the essence of life--living. She walked over to the kiosk, rented some skates and played for the first time. She fell, she got covered in snow, she laughed and she had fun playing with a family on the rink.
The lesson that Sherry learned that day, holding that man's hand, was to live. His death was not senseless or in vain. That man's death taught Sherry how to live, how to come alive, and that is what she needed.
I give my condolences to the cyclist's family and I send my love and admiration to Sherry. It took great courage to stay with that man and comfort him and help him die in peace.
Until next time,
Peace and love to you all,
Jacqueline
