Empathy vs. Judgement

Empathy is so important to human life. Judgement not so much. There is so much judgment in the world, especially on online articles. These articles can be from anywhere in the world, and because we are anonymous online, most of us become keyboard warriors. These keyboard warriors can fight for the right reasons, or they can fight for the wrong reasons. The ones that fight for the wrong reasons are usually trolls. Judgement on online articles attracts both type of warriors. They also attract one more: the everyday browser. These browsers have the option to think with empathy or judgement. They have the tendency to judge someone based on one article. This is wrong, in many instances. I know what its like to be on the receiving end of that misplaced judgement.

***Before we start: I have five biological uncles. They are numbered from eldest to youngest. They will be called Uncle 1, Uncle 2, Uncle 3, Uncle 4 and Uncle 5. I have four Aunts, three who are the wives of Uncle 1, Uncle 3, and Uncle 5. If they are referred to they are usually going to be connected to the uncle they are married to. My Aunt who is my Papa's sister I'll refer to her as "his sister" if I mention her.***

Back in 2015 I had the unimaginable happen to me: I lost my Papa (father) in a horrible motorcycle accident. That isn't the end of it though, this is just the beginning. He didn't die immediately and spent a week in a coma in the ICU on life support. It had to be the worst day of my life. I was a brand-new Mom with a 5 month old, had just lost my apartment because my ex-husband (We weren't married at the time.) had lost our apartment and was in the middle of adjusting to a new life schedule living with my Mother when I got the news.

My brother got the call at 1 A.M. July 20, 2015, from Uncle 4 who our Papa lived with. We were aghast. The next day very early in the morning Uncle 1 and my Aunt (his wife) picked us up, and we went up to the hospital he was in. I didn't know what to expect what when we got there. When we arrived another Uncle 3 (Uncles 2 and 3 are twins.) told us that Papa was in the ICU, and not to expect him to look like he usually would. My siblings and I looked at each other. I was nervous, I don't know what they were feeling. We took the stairs up to the second floor since that's where the ICU/Burn Unit was.

I had been in that very hospital a few months ago to get my gal bladder removed in Emergency Surgery. He (my Papa) had been caring, and lively. He had been at the birth of my son 5 months previous and giggling at how I was acting under an epidural. My stomach was awash with nerves, butterflies, and nausea as we climbed those stairs. I felt like I was going to a funeral or execution. I was hoping that even though I heard that Papa was in "critical but stable condition" he'd be awake and able to talk. I hoped that even though he was going to be arrested (more on that later) that he would live through this, and that I'd have my Papa back. I was hoping it wasn't as bad as it sounded. As far as I knew at that point, there was still hope for recovery.

We arrived at the ICU/Burn Unit's waiting room, and Uncle 3 told us that Papa didn't look the way he usually did. He told us that he had a tube coming out of his head to alleviate the pressure on his brain. He told us that Papa has broken out all of his teeth. Broke all of his ribs but one. One of his lungs was punctured and broke the 5th and 3rd vertebrate in his back. We didn't learn of the further damage Papa had endured until much later. I remember that all 3 of us (my siblings and I) were allowed to go back to see him. Uncle 3 came along since we didn't know where Papa's room was.

I remember walking into the room, and seeing him on the bed, his eyes were still open. Unmoving and unblinking, just staring blankly up at the ceiling. I remember seeing the tube coming out of his head the iodine making his gray and white hairs gold. A tube going down his throat from a huge respirator helping him breathe, a tube for the IV in his arm, multiple bruises (he bruised easily under the skin when it came to shots and IVs.) on his arms from shots and IVs, and other tubes going to other places. It terrified me, the man I always saw as strong, indestructible, invincible was as helpless as a sleeping baby in his hospital bed. All at once my siblings and I started calling "Wake up, Papa! Wake up!" Over and over for a while, hoping that, that would work. Until Uncle 3 told us to stop, and that we were possibly disturbing other patients and their families.

We returned to the waiting room where I started to cry. I silently cried my heart breaking, afraid that Papa would never wake up. We were told they didn't know how much damage had been done to Papa's brain, and that brain injury could possibly mean death. We waited, and waited, and waited, but they couldn't find anything since the scans were done too early to tell. In the meantime Aunts, Uncles and cousins whether first or 2nd, Great Aunts and Uncles, Grandparents and family friends showed up to see Papa and to visit with us, his kids, siblings, nieces and nephews.

The first day in spite of shock and fear was the fun day. It was the day that was full of potential, full of hope. It was the day that prayers could still move mountains, and that medical science could be the answer to those prayers. I had such hope that day, and a few of the days that followed. My family was full of hope that Papa would pull out of it. We learned otherwise about a week later. Since I was his eldest, I had to make some decisions like to sign a paper that gave the hospital permission to put a PICC in his arm. A PICC is like a large IV that other IVs are put into. That was different and weird to do since I was signing a permission slip for my father!

Through out the week Papa had been showing some good progress, but was going between being on and off the ventilator. The nurses (who were so kind) had to do reflex tests, so they pushed a pen light into the cuticles of his big toes and fingers. If he pulled the corresponding appendage away, he still had feeling in those limbs, if not he may not have feeling in those limbs. He did fine with his feet and legs, but his hands not so much. At the time I contributed it to his carpal tunnel. If he had his arms in the same position, they'd go numb after a while.

At the end of the week, the doctors got the scan that told us exactly what was happening with Papa. The scans were finally picking up what was happening with Papa's brain injuries. They told us that we needed to talk in one of the big conference rooms. My heart dropped into my stomach, it must be something very serious if they wouldn't tell us in the waiting room. My siblings and I filed in with the rest of our Aunts, Uncles and Cousin's into the conference room. All of the sudden I was all business as soon as I stepped foot in that room. We sat down around the big rounded, rectangular conference table, that was bigger in the center than it was at the ends. All of the chairs were black, wheeled, high backed computer chairs. I remember settling in my chair with my purse at my side. I sat in one of the chairs on the very end of the table, at the opposite end from where the doctor was standing. I wanted to be able to see anything he was going to use as a visual aid. We waited for the family to be seated, and the doctor started.

He said it wasn't going to be easy, this was going to be difficult news, and that we were going to have to make a decision. He then pulled up a picture of my father's brain scans. I believe it was an MRI, maybe it was a CAT scan but I'm not sure. It has been 5 years. I saw what looked like stars all through it. These pin pricks of lights all over his brain. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it was bad. The doctor said that he had suffered diffuse axonal injury. Diffuse axonal injury is when there are multiple small injuries through the brain. The star like lights we saw on the scan was where the dead tissue was. These brain cells were basically sliced in half from Papa shaking back and forth, he had essentially suffered shaken baby syndrome. This is the same injury you see in shaken babies. The doctor said that the injuries were all the way through out the layers of his brain and multiple injuries in each layer. The top layer is what you would think the surface of the outside of the brain until a certain point, the second layer is the more inner workings like the amygdala and stuff like that, the third is the brain stem. The brain stem rules the actions of your body that are not conscious, like your heart beat, your breathing, blinking, and your natural reflexes. The doctor said with the extent of Papa's injuries he would never fully recover and possibly in a coma forever. He then told us that we had a very important decision a head of us.

While the doctor told us what was happening with Papa, I had gotten up, and stood behind my siblings and placed a hand on each of their backs. I started to rub their backs like Papa would have. I don't know what compelled me to do this, it just felt like the right thing to do. I don't know if it helped them, but it certainly helped me. I wanted to make sure my siblings knew that their big sister (I'm the eldest.) was there, and that they weren't alone. I wanted to be that comfort that Papa always was to me. We then had to make a big decision after getting the news. We all talked and agreed on that because Papa had always told me that if he was going to be a vegetable for the rest of his life, to pull the plug. Those are his words, not mine.

A week almost to the day of his accident, that Monday July 27, 2015 we gave the go ahead to the doctors and nurses. They let us say our good byes first. I went in and held his hand and told Papa how much I loved him and how much I would miss him. I told him that I was glad he was able to meet Conner, and that I'd be sad that he wouldn't get to see him grow up. I remember telling him that I'd be fine with my ex-husband (which now with foresight was wrong) and that he could go to heaven. I remember crying through it all. I remember telling him that I am glad that he's my Papa, and that I'm proud that he is my Papa. I remember having to say good bye. It hurt, it sucked, but I knew that if we kept him on life support that he would be in misery and its not what he wanted. My Siblings, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Family Friends, Grandmother (his Mom), Great Aunts, Great Uncles, First Cousins and Second Cousins all said goodbye. After they all said good bye, that's when he was pulled off of life support.

He died at 3 A.M. the next morning on July 28, 2015.I wasn't sleeping very well that night, having half dreams. One dream had Papa in it. I got the call, and I answered all groggy and Uncle 3 told me that Papa had passed away. Uncle 1 and 3 were there when he died. I didn't cry. Later that next morning Uncle 1, his wife, Uncle 3, his wife and myself all sat down to make the funeral arrangements and organize his end of life stuff. I was numb for the rest of the time until the funeral which was August 8, 2015. I felt nothing that week, absolutely nothing. We got together and made memorial boards for Papa at Uncle 3's place. That night Aunt 3 and I (his wife) and I were talking about the decorations. I could barely put any emotion into what they were. They were all earth tones browns, tans, and creams. In hindsight I wish we would have interjected some blue in there since it's his favorite color. I even helped pick up Papa's ashes, and didn't cry once that whole week. I didn't cry until the funeral, and bawled. I cried so bad it felt like I couldn't stop. My Papa, my hero was gone forever.

The funeral was lovely, in spite of having no music. There are several songs I would have loved to play at Papa's funeral. All of them classic rock songs. He loved those artists Metallica, AC/DC, ZZ Top, Black Sabbath, Quiet Riot, Yes, Queen. I could go on and on, but I'd be getting away from the point. There was a sermon, and everyone told their favorite story about Papa. I asked if we could do this since Papa was such a great story teller. Family and friends alike stood up and told stories about Papa. I was and am grateful for all of them. I treasure each of them, and they all have a special place in my heart. Afterword there was a wake, all the food was delicious and the company more so.

A week later we buried his ashes at the cemetery. One last time we spoke about Papa, just I my siblings and my immediate Aunts and Uncles. He then was buried. The week leading up to the burial, I went around with Uncle 1 and my Aunt (his wife) to pick out the burial and headstone. My sister and I designed the headstone. It, of course, said his full name, birthday, death day and "Beloved Family Man." My sister and I wanted to make sure who ever saw his headstone knew that he loved his family. The pictures on it are a couple of clouds in the sky, four trees going from largest to smallest on the right-hand side of the writing, and a motorcycle that looked exactly like the one he was riding when he got in the accident on the left-hand side. My sister and I are quite proud of it. It meant the world to me that the cemetery and the headstone engravers let my Sister and I design his headstone.

In my young adulthood I didn't see my father all that much because I got busy. When he died I felt guilty, and tried to make up for that by shopping for grave cites close to his. I know it was silly in hindsight... But for some reason I thought that if I was buried next to him or near him, that I would be eternally with him. That it would make up for that time lost. I felt so guilty. I also was grieving. I was wounded, sad and in pain. My father the man who gave me life, and half my DNA was gone. The living link to my other family members was gone. I remember feeling like I was free floating, and feeling like the link to my extended family was broken and gone. I know that's silly. I know that I am linked to them through half of my DNA even though Papa is gone. It took me a long time to get to a place of acceptance. I am there for the most part today.

The reason I tell you all of this is to put into context the following part of the story. I tell you this, so you can at least empathize with me when I read the news story and comments on that news story about my father and how I felt about what was said. I want you to know the context surrounding my life at that point. I told you the above story, so you understand how much these unkind and judgmental comments hurt, stung, and burned my Papa's memory and me. There are a few kind comments, and those I am grateful for. The following paragraphs will contain the news story and comments on that story. They have all been edited to leave out names and places.

The day after we had gotten the news about Papa's accident, and while we were still waiting for scans the next day we found this article published on a local news web page [names and Locations have been changed.]:

"Man hurt during motorcycle pursuit

[Local Town] — A 52-year-old Large City man is in critical but stable condition at [University Towns’] University [] Medical Center after crashing his motorcycle on Sunday morning.

*This is wrong, it was actually Sunday Night.*

The man was being pursued by a [Local Town's] police officer who attempted to make a traffic stop for speeding. The crash occurred in the curve on [Local] Road near [Crossing] Road at 10:23 a.m. Sunday.*

* Also wrong it was 10:23 P.M.! How else could have we gotten the call at 1 AM? By 10:23 A.M. he was on ventilators and being transported to CAT and MRI scans.*

According to a news release from [Local Town's] Police Chief [], the motorcyclist, whose name was not released, was clocked at 40 mph in a 25 mph zone southbound on [a Highway] [between 2 Local Towns] near [Local] Road. The motorcycle continued south, hitting speeds up to 80 mph, before turning onto [Local] Road and was eastbound when the rider lost control in the curve and crashed on the south side of [Local] Road.

[Other Local Town's] Fire Department personnel responded to the scene along with the [Other Local Town's] Police Department, and the driver, who had been unresponsive when first checked by officers, was then transported by Survival Flight medical helicopter to [University Town]. The [] County Accident Investigation Team was activated and started the investigation with the [Local Town's] Police Department and [] County Sheriff’s Department.

Potential charges are pending."

Yeah, I know a high speed chase doesn't look good. Especially doesn't look good after we learned he was drunk while operating his motorcycle. This does NOT make him a bad person, though. This makes him human. Anyone can make this mistake. If it wasn't for the fact that he died this way, I would have made this mistake by now. He was a good man, who loved his family, and his family loved him.

Though the some of the people on Facebook, in my immediate area didn't seem to feel the same way. They said things that made me mad at the time, and now that I read some of them in retrospect, some of them make sense. Some are just downright rude and ignorant. Some people wanted to know his name when they have no right to know something so personal. I have screen shots that have been edited to take out the extra space and screen, and to black out people's photos and names. I don't know if they'd do the same for me, but I wanted to make sure to protect their privacy. Some comments were made by me, my Uncle, and one by my Cousin. The uncle is Uncle 4. He's the one that called us to begin with.

As you can see from the posts above, the top one is nice, but the bottom one is judgmental. He didn't only "lose his license" he lost his life, sorry to break it to you commenter #2, he didn't live through it. He paid the ultimate price. I miss him every day because of it. You know from my tale that this comment in the context of my life for those 3 weeks that it hurt. Place yourself in my shoes, read that from my point of view. Doesn't that hurt? Doesn't that make you angry? Doesn't that make that person sound self-righteous and arrogant, and doesn't that make you angry? At the time and even a bit now "Well, he probably shouldn't have been running from the police. I wonder if he'll still lose his license...." stings, it hurts, it still makes me angry. Who is this person to act like their better than my Papa, huh? What makes them so wonderful? What makes them so worthy to judge him? Nothing, nothing, nothing. Nothing but their entitlement.

Yes, he could have hurt someone, but he didn't. Yes, what he did was wrong. He isn't a criminal! That first comment implies that he is a criminal, and that still makes me very angry. My Papa was an upstanding man! Yes, he did this thing, which isn't a good thing. Yes, he did it on other occasions that I know of, but that doesn't make him a criminal! It still ticks me off to see someone call my loving, wonderful, warm, and sweet Papa a criminal! Imagine how you would feel. Worried if your Father was going to live or not and then coming home to read this on the internet from people who don't even know him! Its something that is more than frustration and anger, its down right rage! I was so angry, but I didn't say much because I was too tired from being worried. I tried as you will see in other comments to be gracious and diplomatic. Uncle 4, on the other hand, was much more blunt than I could have been at that time. I am glad for the two following, though. They are kind and are sending prayers, prayers that we needed at that time. It was a breath of fresh air in the oppressing heat that was my anger at the time. It was a nice break from the constant criticism from people who, for all I knew were worse.

What my cousin says was true, it was his uncle and people didn't know all the details. It seems one of the commenters was my cousin's friend or acquaintance and apologizes. I appreciate that. It comes from a place of humility. I let that person know he was fighting, but there was more to it of course, but I wasn't about to let that show. I felt exactly the way my cousin put it "That moment when this is your uncle and people don't know the whole story. Thanks." Only substitute Papa for Uncle. They didn't know the whole story, yet they wanted to comment on it anyway. We didn't even know the whole story, its not like every police office has a Sherlock Holmes to tell you exactly what happened. We can only guess.

My theory is Papa was having a great day, and drinking as usual. He left to go home to sleep it off, and as he hit the section of highway the officer was on panicked when he saw the lights. He had gotten a DUI when trying to sleep off inebriation in a parking lot before. Now, this is where several things could have happened. A.) He could have sped off thinking the officer would stop tailing him after a while. B.) the shifter was having issues on that bike so the shifter could have stuck and he couldn't shift down. Or C.) He took off because he didn't want to get in trouble again. That could be combined with A and B. After taking off, or the shifter sticking he then took the curvy road that was his demise. He then made it around the first curve, then the second came up and because of his inebriated state, didn't turn in time hit the ditch. He went down in the ditch, that made him shake enough for the brain injury because he wasn't holding himself rigid. He then hit the bottom of the ditch launched him from his bike. Where he bounced and settled between three trees sustaining the injuries during the whole incident.

During our time going back and forth to the hospital my Aunt (wife of Uncle 3) wanted to know what happened. She talked to the local police officers, watched the tape, read the police report went out to the scene and made her own measurements. She was a math major in college, so she was able to analyze the crash site pretty well. She told us the next day what happened during the chase and subsequent crash. I was shaken and still wanted to view the video for myself. My Aunt said I shouldn't because it would make me more upset (I was upset over Papa that whole week.) than I already was, and it was pretty graphic. I agreed with her, but knowing the details she now brought to light with her investigations helped me piece together my own theory of the events.

The top commenter would have been right if Papa had been the victim of the accident in a car vs motorcycle accident and he was sober. Which in some small way I wish he had been. Then they dissolve down into a debate about the officer's actions vs. Papa's actions which was inappropriate if you ask me. If you want to argue about the morality of what happened, that's fine. Instead do it in a PM where everyone else and I don't have to read it. I get that the morality of the situation was pretty black and white. I've never condoned his actions. I only beg people to remember that people are people. That they're not criminals straight out of the gate.

I think my response says everything here. I was more desperate that my father lived to carry out his sentence then die. I wanted him to be able to come home after he had served his sentence so badly then. If he was your father, or if it was your father, wouldn't you? I agreed then and I agree now, that he should have used the brain he was blessed with and called for a ride home rather than driving himself. I wish things had been different that night, but judging him and saying "he should have known better..." doesn't reverse things, it doesn't bring him back, it doesn't fix anything. All it does is make his family and friends sad and angry. Sad that he did it. Angry at you for judging someone you don't know. Angry that you have no idea of who he was and how many good decisions he had made.

I was gracious in this set, I still can't believe I was so calm during all of this. There were so many hecklers and abusers. I can't believe I kept my calm. It still makes my blood boil when I see "your friend." He's not only my friend. He is my Father! The man who gave me life! The man who gave me half of my DNA! Not just a friend, he was so much more! My rock, my safe space, a place I could go to receive unconditional love, advice and good time spent. He meant more to me than anyone in the entire world to me, with the exception of my son who was 5 months old then. I hated these comments. I hated how callous people could be. I'm showing you a lot of the comments that were on the nice side. They ended up saying mean things and then curbing them to something somewhat kind. It's because they learned the "52 year old mans" family members were in the comments.

I get it he shouldn't have been going that fast. No one should be going that fast on that curve. Absolutely no one, but he IS my father! That's the thing. He IS my father. IS IS IS IS IS! Not if, IS! He was the one going 80 miles an hour, he was the one who was launched from his motorcycle because of his own decisions, he was the one who was KILLED from his mistake! "If your mom, dad, brother sister etc. was coming in the other direction and hit by a motorcycle or any other object at 80 miles an hour- your story and opinions would be different." No, no, they wouldn't be because I would be just as upset because he would have DIED either way! I would just have someone to blame instead of just him! I would have someone else to put blame on, which you must be craving because you don't like making the person that you love take the blame for their mistake. I, on the other hand, have accepted that. He made the mistake. It wasn't the alcohol he drank, it wasn't the motorcycle. It was HIM. I'm not stupid. I know whose fault it is. Its not the cops fault, they were just doing their jobs. I never once blamed the cops, and I never will.

Right now in this country (the USA) we are having a problem with police brutality. I can say that I am happy to know that it wasn't police brutality that was responsible for his death. The cops from the two local towns that I live near (one I lived in at the time) did their jobs. Papa was going 55 miles above the posted speed limit. They needed to pull him over. It is their job to pull over irresponsible drivers, and Papa was being irresponsible in more than one way. He was drinking, driving, and speeding which are all illegal.

I know that this article is running long, I'm sorry. I needed to give you a context for why I have a unique perspective on this subject. When you read an article about someone who has done something wrong online, you need to have empathy for the people who surround the person highlighted in the article. My Papa was the person highlighted in the article. The people who surrounded him, his friends, children, brothers, sister, sister-in-laws, MOTHER, father, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and cousins were the victims of cyberbullying. Not my Papa! He could have cared less at the time since he was in a coma fighting for his life! Think about that the next time you comment on something! Its not the perpetrator you're bullying you're bullying the people who surround them. They don't need bullying. They need your empathy.

That's why a majority of the comments featured above were featured, they showed empathy. They said what he did was wrong (which it was) and offered the empathy of prayer. They apologized when they hurt us. I then, and in retrospect respect that and am thankful for that. More people need to do this. Recently something happened in my area that was really bad, so so so bad. I'll be writing in another article to talk about that since I have known the person who did it. They were saying horrible things, and I kept thinking to myself that this persons family member and friends are going to read that. I don't know if any of them will care. Knowing that persons mental state, but I remember what it was like for me to read peoples comments about my Papa. I didn't want to contribute to that, so I didn't say anything. I was also too shaken to say anything, and I didn't want to paint a target on my back since it was majorly bad. I didn't want to be associated with that, because I didn't want people to think I was capable of what he was. What he did was very awful.

When you read articles from news sites whether its world news or local news, especially local. Please think about how you would feel if someone said something bad about you, your family member or friend. I understand there are somethings where you're going to have a knee jerk reaction. I get it. I've been guilty of that. Since Papa's accident though I try to take a step back. I talk to who ever is in the room with me, or I write it down somewhere that isn't public. Ever since the summer of 2015 I changed. Please, think first use empathy vs. judgement. It will make you feel better in the end. I promise.

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