Fifteen minutes.

It just figures that the day I return to my blog, something monumental happens.  I think it was the universe telling me I would need to be able to tell someone about this in order to fully process what just happened.

I just saw a man die.

Well, I don't know exactly when he died, but I was the first to arrive after he did.  It was just another Friday.  We are in our second week of school, the routine has started to settle in.  I picked up the kids from school and we went to our swimming pool for swimming lessons, just like we've done every Friday for years.  Only this time, the lesson was for Miss B and the boys had to get ready for their respective Friday night soccer practices.  We were leaving the small parking lot, we turned down the tiny street towards the intersection that led to the busy street, and there, in front of us was a motorcycle lying in the middle of the road.  Something was obviously very wrong.

By the time we got to the end of the tiny street, we could see a man lying just beyond, and the largest dump truck I have ever seen was parked a little further away.  The man in the road wasn't moving and the driver was pacing in the street yelling into his cell phone.  We were the first car to arrive on the scene.  It had probably happened just a minute or two before.  At first it looked like it was a teenager, but then later I saw his face and it was someone older than that.

I immediately put the car in park, told the kids to stay put and ran into the street.  My mind raced.  What do you do at that moment?  Do you try to help the lifeless body laying in the road?  Talk to the driver?  I was afraid of the body and my french isn't good enough to offer anything to the distraught driver.  By now, the driver was off the phone and he told me that the motorcycle man had turned out right in front of him, he couldn't stop.  I think I asked if the man was dead but I don't remember.

By this time, other cars were stopping, the lady that had pulled out of the parking lot behind me was on her phone, calling the emergency numbers as I'm sure the driver of the truck had already called.  Other witnesses were standing around.   No one knew at this point if he was alive or dead, but it didn't look good.  No one knew what to do and there weren't any sirens to announce the arrival of anyone that would know what to do anytime soon.

The dump truck was parked in the right lane.  The man was lying just behind the truck.  Two men moved the bike out of the road.    Traffic was starting to pile up.  Cars that couldn't see what was happening were honking impatiently for the unexplained stop.  One lane was blocked by the truck and driver but the other was passable, but it was a corner and hard to see.

I couldn't just stand there.  So this American girl threw up her arms and started directing traffic.  I stopped one lane of traffic, just like I've seen police officers do a hundred times.  I waved about ten cars or so through from the opposite lane and then  I stopped the next car and ran fifteen yards or so to the other side and waved about ten cars through from the other direction.  One of them was a nurse and she stopped to try to help the man.  Back and forth, back and forth I ran, telling cars where and when to go. It felt like I did this for an hour.  But really it was probably only for about five or ten minutes.  I tried not to look at the man and his helmet that was cracked in a million places.  I yelled at cars that were going too fast to slow down and tried to stand in front of the man to block everyone from staring, and also, I guess,  to make sure no one ran over him again.  Eventually, we could hear sirens.  Then, the police officers were there.

It didn't matter anymore about directing the traffic, the ambulance parked in the open lane and traffic was blocked in both directions.  I had to move my car so the little street was passable.  But I didn't want to leave in case I needed to tell someone something.  And I really wanted to know if the man was alive...or not.  No one was moving very fast, so I think I already knew the answer.

I asked one of the other early witnesses.  He didn't know for sure either and he switched to english right away.  I told him I was the first one to arrive and he went with me to talk to the officers.  I didn't see the actual accident, they didn't need me to stay.

I asked my question.  "Is he alive?"

The officer shook his head and said "his head..."

I told him I would never let my sons ride motorcycles.  Not that they would want to after seeing this anyway.

Then, the officer smiled at me with a small smile that I will never forget, and he said "thanks for your help with the cars."  I think I just shrugged.  I hadn't realized until that moment that I had even done anything.  It hadn't been intentional, I just reacted to a situation.

I walked back to my patient children and lost it a little then.  When I got back to the car, I was wiping tears from my eyes and AJ said to me "mom, it was pretty cool that you were able to help."  I pulled it together enough to get the boys to practice.  When I looked at the clock I realized that the entire interruption in our routine Friday afternoon only took about fifteen minutes in total.  That fifteen minute interruption is nothing compared to what some nearby family is experiencing tonight in learning about the loss of a loved one.  It's nothing compared to what the poor truck driver must be going through tonight.  My heart goes out to all of them.

I have this need tonight to tell anyone and everyone:  Life is precious and fragile.  Don't take it for granted, each day is a gift.

RIP motocycle man.  I didn't know you, but I will never forget you.