I've been avoiding this for over a week now.
As I've mentioned before, my posts in "Neanderings" arise mostly whenever a train of thought envelopes me with its persistence on an ongoing basis. Some of these trains of thought are more persistent than others and that's when you end up with me here, fumbling away with words and their meaning. I guess today is one of those days.
A little over a week ago, a driver lost control of her vehicle outside the entrance of a Costco here in London. Somehow or other, the vehicle managed to find its way through the barriers guarding the entrance of Costco and then plowed into a pregnant mother and her two children.
The woman's six-year-old daughter, after being held on life support long enough to donate organs, died. The woman, who was eight months pregnant, underwent an emergency C-section in an attempt to save both her and her unborn baby's life. Sadly, the newborn infant also passed away a few days after the accident. The mother and her other daughter are recovering. After some internal debate, I have decided not to post the girl's name or picture. Frankly, I become extremely sad looking at her pictures and I'm sure they would have the same effect on a reader. Instead, look at any other young child you know and you will see the same qualities.
I would be hard-pressed to describe any other single incident in the city's history which has involved more of an outpouring of grief involving one of its own than this one.
The young girl has been described as an "angel". Shown a picture of her in life and I am sure you would agree. In a few short days, the people of London donated $30,000, towards her funeral expenses. Costco is matching, dollar for dollar, any contributions made at their stores, up to $50,000. Thousands attended a candlelight vigil. Much sorrow (and a little anger) has been expressed all over social media and in print.
I think one of the things which struck us the most was the random nature of this horrific event.
When you hop into a car and drive away there is this implicit danger. When you are playing sports there is a real possibility that you may get hurt. Swimming in a rough lake, walking deep into the forest. There are a whole host of things we do and activities we engage in which carry along with them at least some small portion of acknowledged risk.
Standing inside a Costco, on the other side of barriers which are there for the express purpose of protecting you and the building should not be one of those "acknowledged risk" situations.
Instead, it seemed almost as if there was malignant purpose behind this event, that somehow a vehicle was guided through those barriers (otherwise, how could it have happened) and directed straight at this young family. This didn't seem like the accidental type of occurrence we all assume the risk of as we go about our daily lives.
It was, of course, random.
Rather than an orchestrated event, it was simply the intersection of a whole series of seemingly unrelated actions, thoughts, and circumstances, all of which had to happen before this tragedy could occur. If any one of a million small things had possibly been different leading up to these deaths, then they might not have happened at all.
The randomness of this is what contributes to the sorrow and anger. We're all pissed off because there is no rhyme or reason to any of it and without rhyme or reason contributing to how we lead our lives, what's there to do?
If you really stop to think about it (but don't, because if you do, you will be frozen) there are an almost infinitesimal number of things which need to either happen or not happen simply for us to survive. As one small example, think of the thousands of cars we pass going the other way on a daily basis. Our lives and/or well-being depend totally on that other driver's health, state of mind and the condition of his car. Any of those things could be in a state of disrepair which might cause his car to swerve into yours. And yet we pass these cars constantly, with no thought towards the random possibilities they all present.
I have an aunt who was doing nothing more than walking along a sidewalk when a driver who was pulling out of a parking lot hit and killed her. His defence was that the sun was in his eyes. Hard to know whether this was true or not but, at the same time, if my aunt had been a few steps faster or a few steps slower or if perhaps the sun had been at a different point in the sky then this tragedy would have been averted. Such small, almost mathematical things, having such an impact on us.
The grief here in London is palpable but at the same time there are people dying horrifically all over the world. Planes and rockets are falling out of the sky and we are presented with images of other dead children from around the world, any of whom would be as angelic as the ones we just lost. I am sure their deaths seem as infuriatingly random as these ones closer to home.
As much, though, as we rail at the seeming senselessness of this young girl's death, there is something else to consider. As I mentioned at the beginning, she was able to give the gift of her organs. This one act would have saved the lives of several others. To the loved ones of anyone who was saved when this six-year-old passed, how exquisitely (and yet somehow excruciatingly) random was this gift?
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