I am 54 years old. Now, this make seven times in my life I’ve done this. I know better. That - I think - qualifies me as a genuine, dyed-in-the-wool, bona fide idiot.
I’ve worked with Klint for more than six years. He was the first individual I met when I moved out here. He took the time to ‘show me the ropes’ and how to survive in this industry. His tutoring in that first year pretty much brought me to where I am (professionally) today.
The thing that makes me really angry, is that over the past 6 years I’ve had many multiple dozens of opportunities to tell this now very good friend of mine how much I truly respected and admired him, and now …
and forevermore …
he will neverknow just how much I valued his friendship.
Just because I never took the time …
Well …
… I’ve just spent the morning on the phone calling the people that matter most in my life, and mending some fences with those with whom I’ve had less than frequent contact with over the years.
Please, I implore each and everyone of you who reads this to invest just a very few minutes and call a valued friend or loved one and tell them how much you care and why. The clock is ticking for each of them, and you can’t know how many hours you have left.
Since tolerably few of us get to pick when we’ll go, and we must all go sooner or later, I don’t see that a man can do better than go quickly, doing what he likes best.
It’s a guy thing to know plenty that we never speak in words.
I agree with previous posters. The people in your life that you really care about, they know. My dad’s not one to say these things, but every time he calls me before our team has a match I know. Think about it, you know how your friends and family feel about you even if they never express it through words.
I’m very sorry for your friend, coworker and mentor. I’m sure he knew. (However, the lesson to tell people that you love them before it’s too late, is always a good one)
This story touched me because the SO of my former mentor, coworker and friend was injured a few months ago in a similar accident. He survived, but he broke pretty much every bone in his body and he’s learning to walk again. Wear a helmet people, and take care of yourself, there are too many out there who cares for you to be reckless.
I’m so sorry for your loss, Lucy. While I understand your frustration with yourself, I don’t expect many others to share it so I’m moving this to MPSIMS where it can be assured to receive appropriate responses.
I’m cool with that. (I actually intended to be here, anyway. There are times when it pays to pay attention.)
Thank you. I appreciate the sentiment.
Not that it’s germane to what you’re saying, but this is one of those incredibly weird and rare cases (let me stress: incredibly weird!! And rare!!!) where a helmet would have done no good what so ever. His massive upper body trauma was not survivable. The handlebar crushed his rib cage, resulting in massive blood loss (first responder supposed his heart was crushed.) His neck was broken at C-2 and the ER doctor believes the spinal cord was severed there as well (awaiting confirmation by autopsy). His back was broken at T-3, T-7 and L-3. It is believed that the somewhat (by comparison) minor head injury would not have been fatal.
Let me stress this once again: This was an incredibly weird and rare case. Wear your helmet. And your body armor.
I understand what you (and others responding to this thread) are saying, and appreciate the sentiment. I really do. Thank you.
And, it’s an interesting theory you have there. One which, until recently, I must have subscribed to myself - at least on some level.
The problem with theories is that someone always seems to come along and provide evidence to the contrary - a case in point:
My elder (and only surviving) sister was surprised this morning by my call. She was even more surprised to learn why I called. 45 minutes later she said to me, “I never realized that you ever even took notice, let alone cared about [insert imaginative subject too personal and involved to go into here …]”
I could relate two others which would also tend to disprove the idea you espouse. That would make three outta eleven calls I made this morning.
And the calls I made this morning surprised me greatly. I thought I knew how these people felt. I thought they all knew at least most of what I called to tell them. They were surprised. I was surprised.
Assuming someone knows how you feel about them now seems like even more dangerous ground than I recently believed.
Once again, make the call. Please. You may be surprised as well.
To all who roam this thread, I offer a sincere ‘Thank You’ for your thoughts and kind words. However, regarding Klint’s death, I mourn him not at all - just regret not telling him what I thought of him.
As Malacandra intimated, he died doing what he loved to do, with the people he loved and mattered most in his life. All of us should be so lucky.
"Well …, maybe lucky is not exactly the right word … "*
Lucy
*Direct quote from Klint. It was a running joke about life and the nature of fatal accidents that Klint and I shared.
Why would anyone else you told know what was unspoken between you and Klint? It was unspoken. Men kinda prefer it that way.
But it isn’t too late. The molecules of his body are given back to the universe, the best part of his memory lives on in the lives he touched, particularly yours. Close your eyes, conjure his image, his voice and his smell. Talk to him, hear his response and when you are ready in good time, laugh with him again. Both of you go out and mentor someone the way he mentored you. He was a wonderful man. He tossed rocks in life’s pond and caused big good ripples and he taught you to toss rocks into the pond too. While he was still alive he probably saw you tossing those rocks and thought: “I taught her that” and knew that his teaching you honored those that taught him.
All I know is something like a bird within her sang,
All I know she sang a little while and then flew on,
Lucy, I am so sorry for your loss and your sense of regret. It may be too late to tell Klint, but it’s not too late to tell his family. Your words will mean the world to them and will help all of you in your grieving.
Lucy, despite the name, is a guy - drives a honkin’ great truck and can sometimes be persuaded to wax mighty interesting about it IIRC.
This accident has a parallel with someone who was Chief Viking at the society that visited for our village pageant last year. He was also a TV stuntman and a few months later was filming a joust for Time Team or some such when the other combatant’s balsa lance broke, and a shard flew through Paul’s helmet visor and nailed him through the eyeball. It really was a case of the bullet with your number on it, considering all the improbables, and his widow stated in response to our letter of condolences that he has lived his life doing what he loved and died the same way. Similar story here, and, FWIW, it sounds like it didn’t even have time to hurt.
An while it is a great truck, I never have time to wax it! And, I almost never honk. I just push ‘em aside an’ keep on truckin’ …
Knowing Klint the way I do, he almost certainly had enough time to realize he’d fu[checks forum]screwed up. The mystery then becomes why he didn’t just step off and push away from the 4-wheeler once he realized he was airborne like he had advocated so many times before this happened. The force of impact blew out all four tires, bent the suspension up parallel with the seat an drove the handle bars nearly (estimated) four full inches into his chest.
Why’d he stay with the machine? Couldn’t see the terrain? Didn’t realize how high in the air he was (it was very dark - about 1:00 AM)? Thought he could recover? Had too much time and money invested in the machine? We’ll never know.
Don’t know if there is such a thing as instantaneous death, but I don’t think there is. I’ve debated that 'till my head was ready to explode and I’m not willing to go there again. Certain that he didn’t hurt for long, and also certain that he didn’t “suffer” …
Hell. There I go waxing again.
Tanks again, Malacandra, for remembering that I’m jus’ one the guys …
I know women who drive “honkin’ great trucks”, and I know women named Lucy. The set does not intersect, but that’s not my point. (What the hell is my point?) Oh, yeah. Ignore my previous advice, suck it up, get 'er done. Then ignore that advice 'cuz I’m pretty clearly an idiot.
I agree with the others. He was lucky to have met you in his short life, and good people are usually aware of those things. Obviously this notion was reciprocated. He knew, just like you know he cared about you.
