It was a rainy summer night in Oklahoma. That is not what caused the accident though. Sandy was headed home with her three boys after shopping. She was thinking about getting dinner on the stove and the boys were arguing over who won the last wrestling match. They loved to wrestle in the living room with mom and dad watching.
BAM.
Then it happened. A truck drove over the median hitting Sandy's van and killing her and the boys. The father got the phone call nearly thirty minutes after the accident. It took the 'jaws of life' forty-five minutes to cut them out. They had been dead upon impact. The cause of the accident, a drunk driver. Twenty-six year old Kevin was out drinking with his friends Thursday afternoon. He had four beers when he realized he needed to pick up his girl friend from work. He wasn't a bad guy, he just made a bad choice.
Mark spent the night at the hospital. A nurse woke him up the next morning and asked him if he wanted her to call somebody to pick him up. He couldn't think of anybody. The dried tears on his cheek were wet once again as he dragged his unwilling body out the hospital sliding doors. The nurse wanted to help him, but walked away without knowing how. She had a busy day ahead of her.
He walked aimlessly home to his Oklahoma home. The flowers she planted. The boys' baseball bat and gloves. He tried to open the door and fell to the ground. He stayed in fetal position until the mail-man came around noon. He wept to the mail man. The mail man was a 56 year old man that attempted to console his troubled heart. But what could one say. He helped him get into the house and made him some coffee. He had to get the mail delivered and walked out shaking his head in doubt that Mark would ever recover.
Mark spent two days in his house. He didn't call work. They called him. He didn't shower. He didn't eat. Finally, he packed a backpack of his oldest son with a few belongings and started walking west, to his sister's house in Utah. He walked his way through Oklahoma, to Texas, and into New Mexico.
It was in Santa Rosa, New Mexico where he decided to sleep next to a trash can. Home of the Blue Hole, a bell shaped lake and an Oasis in the middle of a desert that a stranger wakens him and tells him, "I am going to take you somewhere to get help."
The man drives him to Bernalillo, New Mexico and drops him off at a church. He says, "You will get help in there," and he points to the building that read, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Mark makes his way up to the door and they are locked. He turns around to the man that helped him and there is nobody there. He walks around to a door and sees somebody and knocks on the glass door. A man opens the door.
"Yes, can I help you?"
"Do you not want anyone in there, all the doors are locked?"
"No, come on in." The man takes Mark to his office and sits down. "What can I do for you?"
Mark begins weeping. The man waits. Mark begins crying. The man waits. Mark is waling. The man walks over to Mark and sits beside him. He feels there is nothing in the world he can say to console this stranger that has come for help. He simply puts his arm on Mark's arm.
Mark begins to tell him what happened to his wife and children. The man listens. He is aching, Mark is in anguish. The man invites him to his house for dinner. They drive and talk. Mark is trying to hold back the constant flow of rivers. He feels that a dam has broken and he has no control. They sit down and eat dinner. The man's daughter plays "The Fox Hunt", a fun happy tune on the piano. Mark enjoys the music so much he asks her to play it four more times. The man's sons begin wrestling on the living room floor and Mark's memories flood him. He runs out of the home, unable to control the tears. The man chases him. He talks to him and they go to the porch. The man wants to help Mark, but he can see that there is nothing he can do. Mark has a broken heart.
The man invites him to sleep in their home that night and to get a good nights rest. He resists and says he needs to make it to Santa Fe by sundown. The son gives him a jacket, the wife makes him a lunch, the man gives him clean socks and the daughter plays one more jig on the piano for Mark.
The man drives him to Santa Fe. He drives to random corner off the 25. He hands Mark a twenty and a torn off piece of paper with his phone number. "Call me if you need anything." Mark thanks him and the man drives off.
Two weeks pass. The phone rings. It is not a recognizable number. The man picks up the phone. It is a hospital in Colorado. A man was brought into the hospital and they have pronounced him dead. There is no identity on him, only this phone number in his back pocket.
"Can you identify him for us, Sir?"
"Yes, I didn't know him well, but last time I saw him he had a broken heart."
BAM.
Then it happened. A truck drove over the median hitting Sandy's van and killing her and the boys. The father got the phone call nearly thirty minutes after the accident. It took the 'jaws of life' forty-five minutes to cut them out. They had been dead upon impact. The cause of the accident, a drunk driver. Twenty-six year old Kevin was out drinking with his friends Thursday afternoon. He had four beers when he realized he needed to pick up his girl friend from work. He wasn't a bad guy, he just made a bad choice.
Mark spent the night at the hospital. A nurse woke him up the next morning and asked him if he wanted her to call somebody to pick him up. He couldn't think of anybody. The dried tears on his cheek were wet once again as he dragged his unwilling body out the hospital sliding doors. The nurse wanted to help him, but walked away without knowing how. She had a busy day ahead of her.
He walked aimlessly home to his Oklahoma home. The flowers she planted. The boys' baseball bat and gloves. He tried to open the door and fell to the ground. He stayed in fetal position until the mail-man came around noon. He wept to the mail man. The mail man was a 56 year old man that attempted to console his troubled heart. But what could one say. He helped him get into the house and made him some coffee. He had to get the mail delivered and walked out shaking his head in doubt that Mark would ever recover.
Mark spent two days in his house. He didn't call work. They called him. He didn't shower. He didn't eat. Finally, he packed a backpack of his oldest son with a few belongings and started walking west, to his sister's house in Utah. He walked his way through Oklahoma, to Texas, and into New Mexico.
It was in Santa Rosa, New Mexico where he decided to sleep next to a trash can. Home of the Blue Hole, a bell shaped lake and an Oasis in the middle of a desert that a stranger wakens him and tells him, "I am going to take you somewhere to get help."
The man drives him to Bernalillo, New Mexico and drops him off at a church. He says, "You will get help in there," and he points to the building that read, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Mark makes his way up to the door and they are locked. He turns around to the man that helped him and there is nobody there. He walks around to a door and sees somebody and knocks on the glass door. A man opens the door.
"Yes, can I help you?"
"Do you not want anyone in there, all the doors are locked?"
"No, come on in." The man takes Mark to his office and sits down. "What can I do for you?"
Mark begins weeping. The man waits. Mark begins crying. The man waits. Mark is waling. The man walks over to Mark and sits beside him. He feels there is nothing in the world he can say to console this stranger that has come for help. He simply puts his arm on Mark's arm.
Mark begins to tell him what happened to his wife and children. The man listens. He is aching, Mark is in anguish. The man invites him to his house for dinner. They drive and talk. Mark is trying to hold back the constant flow of rivers. He feels that a dam has broken and he has no control. They sit down and eat dinner. The man's daughter plays "The Fox Hunt", a fun happy tune on the piano. Mark enjoys the music so much he asks her to play it four more times. The man's sons begin wrestling on the living room floor and Mark's memories flood him. He runs out of the home, unable to control the tears. The man chases him. He talks to him and they go to the porch. The man wants to help Mark, but he can see that there is nothing he can do. Mark has a broken heart.
The man invites him to sleep in their home that night and to get a good nights rest. He resists and says he needs to make it to Santa Fe by sundown. The son gives him a jacket, the wife makes him a lunch, the man gives him clean socks and the daughter plays one more jig on the piano for Mark.
The man drives him to Santa Fe. He drives to random corner off the 25. He hands Mark a twenty and a torn off piece of paper with his phone number. "Call me if you need anything." Mark thanks him and the man drives off.
Two weeks pass. The phone rings. It is not a recognizable number. The man picks up the phone. It is a hospital in Colorado. A man was brought into the hospital and they have pronounced him dead. There is no identity on him, only this phone number in his back pocket.
"Can you identify him for us, Sir?"
"Yes, I didn't know him well, but last time I saw him he had a broken heart."
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