I Died Today

I first heard that poem when I was fifteen years old. I sat in drivers ed, watching a video of car crashes as the poem was read in the background. Our instructors showed that clip to every student on the first day of drivers education in the hope of saving a single life.

Oh sure, they read off statistics afterwards and told us how many accidents happened every year, including how many were fatal and involved drivers under the age of eighteen. I don't remember them. But, I can remember that poem. I can't even credit the author because they are anonymous, but I know they have impacted more lives than they probably ever imagined.

Did they lose a child? Did their son die in a car crash, and it was their way of coping? I've often wondered about it over the years, but even as powerful as the almighty Google is, I still have nothing as far as evidence. However, I do have a lasting memory, that and Right Said Fred, singing 'I'm Too Sexy' on the radio while we were learning to parallel park.

Throughout my life, that poem has popped up. In fact. Very recently. There was a horrible accident by the feed store where I live. A young man on a motorcycle passed away. He was only nineteen. My son is eighteen and wanting to buy his first car. My anxiety decided to attack that day. As a parent, the most random things pop into your mind. This poem was one of them, and I had visions of my firstborn being in an accident.

How many of us get behind a lorry carrying logs or metal pipes and switch lanes immediately? I know I do. I will glance over to my husband and say, "Nope, I've seen this movie. I have no plans to die today." But, I shouldn't worry; it's the horse that is going to kill me. I am in the process of retraining a racehorse. The plan is to turn him into a beautiful ridden horse over the next two years.

Unfortunately, ex-racers tend to have multiple psychological problems. My boy is pretty sane, but that is a relative narrative. I saddled him up the other day, and everything was fine until I attempted to walk him out of his stall. As soon as his head reached the door, he reared. I honestly believe it started with a temper tantrum but soon turned to full-blown panic. In seconds, this calm, happy animal turned into six hundred kg of thrashing death on four legs.

He spun and fell towards me. The only thing that stopped me from being crushed was the metal frame of the stable, which his body weight bent and knocked out of place. This is a support beam; I would not have had a chance. Even though I was staring death in the eye, my first thought was for my animal. Part of me wanted to reach out and catch him as he fell. Thankfully, the still-functioning part of my brain vetoed that idea.

In the end, we were all slightly traumatised, but he wasn't badly injured, only a little bruised and sore. The support beam fared worse. I nearly died that day. Working with dangerous animals makes you realise your mortality. Although I'm able to joke about it today, My horse would have killed me if he landed on me. Once again, the poem, 'Dear God, I'm only 17' came to mind. Instead, it was more,

Dear God, I'm only 44

The day I died was an ordinary day. I should have just mucked out instead of planning to ride him. He was so good, though, relaxed and happy. I groomed him and tacked him up, and all was going well until it wasn't.

He reared and screamed; I didn't move fast enough. Then my horse was on top of me. First, the pain was crushing; then, it was nothing. Why didn't it hurt anymore? Even when he struggled to get up and stood on my arm, snapping the bone, there was no pain.

My best friend looked dazed as she grabbed my gelding and moved him into a corner of the stall. Her boyfriend cried. Why was he crying? He doesn't cry; he is such a tough guy. Why weren't they helping me up? I could hear my kids shouting, "Mom! Mom! Is my Mom Ok! Why isn't she moving?"

The livery manager ushers them away. I can hear her soothing them, but I can't see them anymore. I want to turn my head and look at them. To tell them mommy will be alright, but nothing is working. I've lost control of my body. Am I paralysed?

The emergency services come. They don't even try to do first aid. It's then that I realise I'm dead. This doesn't seem right; I can't be dead. I'm only 44; I have three kids that need me. How could this happen? I'm not ready; I want to see them grown up. I want to see my grandbabies. Please, God, don't take them away from me.

They come to see me in the funeral home. My husband's eyes are blank. We have never been apart in over twenty years. How is he going to cope? How will he work and take care of the kids? I'm sorry, Lord, please give me one more chance? My kids need me; my husband needs me.

Look at my kids. My daughter is crying. "Why won't Mommy wake up, Daddy?" My middle son is on the verge of a massive meltdown. I need to comfort him. He can't handle this. It's going to set him back years. Autistic kids need stability; I need to hug him. I love you, baby boy, please don't cry!

My eldest is so stoic; it's ok, sweetheart. I'm here; I love you. You are so strong. I can hear him whisper when he comes up, "Why, Mom? Why did it have to be you?" No God, please, just one more chance. I will sell the horse! I will be safe. Just let me live long enough that they don't need me anymore.

But it's too late; I'm dead; dear God, I'm only 44.

None of us knows when our final moments will be. That is why it is so important to tell your loved ones that you love them; every day. Don't let the sunset on an argument. There may be no tomorrow. The original poem was through the eyes of a child, just becoming an adult. The second poem is from the eyes of an adult, realising they will never see their children become adults.

Here is a link to 'Dear God, I'm only 17. From Dear Abbey, in 1985.