A Name and a Story

A couple of nights ago, we saw some emergency response vehicles stop just down the hill from our place. There were fire engines, policemen and an ambulance. They had the road blocked off and were scouring the ditches. We watched from our property and were able to find out that a pedestrian had been struck by a minivan.

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My daughter returned from driving friends home and when I told her what happened, she was shocked, as they had seen the pedestrian on the road about a kilometer from the accident site just 20 minutes earlier.

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I brought my daughter and 2 of her friends down to the scene to speak to the officer and give testimony. The police were very interested and we ended up with a couple of constables in our home until around 3:30am. The kids gave the police testimonies. They also gave them valuable information to the investigation.

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I received a phone call today from a friend with some very bad news. He went on to say that a good friend of ours just lost her brother very close to my house and he was wondering if I knew anything. I told him all I know. In fact, the deceased man was the brother of our dear friend.

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His name was Henry and he had come home from England. He was re-establishing himself here when the accident occurred. That “unknown” victim of circumstance indeed had a name and a story. His name is Henry and he has sisters and brothers and a mother and father who love him dearly.

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Why do I feel different now that I have a name and a story? It’s a good thing to remember that all of us have names and all of us have stories. Most people begin life with a name and are loved by someone. Henry had a name and he was indeed loved. Henry had a story.

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I am sorry Henry. I am sorry my friend.