An Accident By Morning

I’m a dog lover. It’s obvious to anyone who knows me, and maybe even to those who don’t—the evidence of the matter has been supported through several of my previous blog posts. I’ve always had a dog throughout the different ages and eras of my life, and I’ve loved them all. I do not boast when I say that as loyal as they have been to me via their supreme nature; I have matched them in return and have performed to my utmost in that regard.

Thus begins a sad confession on my part, an event that has haunted me over the past twenty-four-plus hours, and shows no sign of relent as I pen these words this morning. I was on my way to work in the still, dawn hours, ready to begin another day of existence in a life that can become approvingly mundane if I had a notion to allow it so. I was driving on the WC, as my oldest son prefers it, but to the older generation it is still known as White Chapel Road. Yes, I was driving too fast, if an excuse is required—but excuses are for those that glean too much knowledge in a failed attempt to become wise. (And “think too much to be beautiful”.)

As I neared one of the all-too-common curves in the road, ahead in the bluing darkness my headlights uncovered a cascade of circular reflectors moving across the road in my path. Seconds being what they are, I knew it was a bicycle, and let off the accelerator with plenty of distance to spare. As I slowed with my eyes riveted on the cyclist, motion on the side of the road caught my attention, but much too late. It was a beautiful yellow lab wearing a red collar, and I swerved too late to avoid him. This action was further complicated by his desire to cross the road at that instant to join his master who rode the bike. All of this occurred in a matter of seconds, and to describe the sounds would open wounds I’m still dealing with, so I won’t.

I drove slowly on up to the man on the bicycle, and rolled down my window in the pale light of what had up to that moment been a beautiful dawn—more so for someone sharing the sunrise with their trusted friend. Of course that was before my sudden and deliberate arrival on the scene.

“Was that your dog?” I asked, but in my heart of hearts I already knew the answer.

“Yes.” He managed, a tone of growing sadness emanating from his voice.

“I’m sorry, man. I really am.” It was all that came to my frazzled mind, and it sounded hollow as I spoke those words, although it assuredly wasn’t.

I apologized to the owner, expressing to him just how much my own dogs mean to me and how I knew how he felt—all the robotic things I should have said and did so. But I knew the anguish he felt as it was clearly written there, and I was the originator of that ruin that had befallen him on a day that moments earlier had certainly held such promise to him. I drove on to work, grief in my own heart sitting heavy in my mind, continuing through yet another day. And after, as always, I wished I would have done more. I should have offered to load his fallen friend in my truck, along with his bicycle, and drive them back to their home wherever it was located. I could have been late for work, at least for one morning, as my record in that regard is stellar and no one would question it had I chosen to do so. I did not think to do it, but I should have.

I often complain of those who drive too fast on our country roads. In fact, I’m extremely vocal about it. I blame them ahead of time for an accident that is sure to happen. Yet what do you do when the thing you abhor most becomes the thing that you are in one swift instance? When reality sets in, it’s a pretty bad deal. The words of Paul ring true within my own ears this morning: “O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?”

The unknown bicyclist may forgive me in time, yet it will prove difficult if he truly loved his dog. Still, it will be quite some time before I can find the means to forgive myself. It was an accident, but a preventable one all the same; and in the meantime I have to live with it in my heart as well as my conscious. Thankfully, after considering the sin in his life Paul answered his own question, and his answer gives me peace today. (Though I probably don’t deserve it!)

“I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

Jesus is the only one who can deliver me from the sin in my life, and in Him alone can I place my hope when I fall short of what I know to be right or wrong. If I ever meet up with that fellow dog owner, I’m going to say and do all the things I should have. In the meantime, I am going to depend on G_d’s forgiveness, and drive slower instead of merely complaining hypocritically about others who do not.