What Good People Do When Bad Things Happen (DUI Loss Entry No. 10)

Sunday I attended the annual benefit for the Alliance Against Intoxicated Motorists. Nearly everyone there had a loved one killed by an intoxicated driver, was injured by an intoxicated driver, or knows someone well who had one of those experiences. AAIM's deputy director spoke and said that we often hear the question "Why do bad things happen to good people?" She prefers, "What do good people do when bad things happen?" The people in the room included victims who speak on AAIM's victim impact panels, advocates who help families through the criminal proceedings against the intoxicated drivers, police officers and prosecutors who do their best to eradicate drunk driving. Our celebrity speaker, Gary Meier of WGN, generously donated his time for the benefit. Looking around me, I felt so moved. Everyone there took tragedy and turned it into something positive, tried to ensure that no one else would be harmed or would die due to intoxicated driving. I hope that all my life I can remember to find a away to create something good from difficult circumstances.

Coping (DUI Loss Entry 9)

I think back to the months and even the year after the crash. I wonder, if I could go back, what advice could I give myself about what might make that time less hard than it was. Maybe nothing. But I wish I had been able to let myself take a few minutes to try and rest. There was no rest in the sense of an undisturbed night’s sleep – so often I lay awake and cried, or ran through in my mind what I imagined had happened during the crash, or how my father struggled when he was in the hospital trying to recover. I don’t think I could have stopped feeling all of that, could have quieted my mind enough to really sleep. But perhaps I could have taken just five minutes an evening to have a cup of tea, or sit still and listen to music, or play my guitar. At the time, it seemed impossible. Any five minutes doing anything not absolutely necessary seemed like time I could not afford to lose from being at the hospital with my dad. And, after he died, it seemed like time I couldn’t afford away from catching up at work, and taking care of the hospital bills and my parents’ house, and getting the estate opened, all things that truly I didn’t need to do immediately, other than perhaps the work aspect. But it all felt so urgent, perhaps because I thought if I got those things done, I would finally have some peace.

It is normal, I suspect, when grieving or trying to care for a love one after a tragedy to feel that any time for yourself can -- and should -- be put off until later. But if I could tell my former self anything, it would be to at least try now and then to stop and breathe, to stop and sit. No terrible thing will happen because of those five minutes, and it might have helped me just a little.