Sympathies To Humboldt Folks

Another Funeral Today

I haven’t mentioned anything about our provincial tragedy yet, but thought I’d post something today and offer my sympathies to the families and community of Humboldt, SK.

Funerals have been ongoing this week — one is starting as I post this — for the ten Humboldt Broncos hockey team players, their coach, assistant coach, statistician, team therapist, a broadcaster and the bus driver who died as a result of a major road accident. If I have it right, ten other team members are still in hospital, two in critical condition.

Last week Friday the team was on its way to a game in Nipawin, SK. The bus was passing through an intersection when a loaded semi approaching from the side ran the stop sign and crashed into the front of their bus. The photos of the accident scene showed the bus on its side with its whole front end totally destroyed.

This morning we watched to a replay of the vigil held Sunday afternoon in Humboldt, where the Teams chaplain delivered an evangelical message. He spoke about the need to connect with God and walk with Him through this dark valley of death. The Pastor wasn’t glib or full of soothing words. He asked, “Where Wwas God? and where is God now?”

The Pastor had been driving his own kids to watch the hockey game and he arrived at the accident scene a few moments after the crash. He went along to the hospital, seeing first hand the suffering of the dying, the survivors. One sad part that came out in the news was that the injured were so battered, the father of one team member, an ER doctor, couldn’t identify his own son.

When news of the accident hit the media, President Donald Trump sent a message of condolence to Prime Minister Trudeau and the families involved. Anti-Trump media may perhaps find some fault, but we Canadians appreciate the kind gesture. That a US President, with all he has on his plate, would take note of an accident here in western Canada and send a note of sympathy, shows a compassionate side to the man.

The recording camera caught a few shots of Justin Trudeau, sitting in the crowd gathered in the Humboldt arena for the service. A number of prominent Canadians attended this service to pay their respects and show support. Team members who’ve died were between 16 and 21, the youth of the community. This is a major blow, with so many homes suffering a direct loss and ten more where health issues will be ongoing. We feel with them in their loss.

Flashing Lights in the Night

We never knew why the train
came to a stop and idled so long,
blocking our crossing
a few hundred metres west —
and the highway a mile south.
We never heard the frantic horn,
the bang. We never knew
what the train hit. Or who.
But now we do — and we still feel
the impact three days later.

Flashing red and blue lights.
“Accident on the train track,”
people whisper as they arrive for
an evening at church. “Pickup hit.”
Half a dozen first responders
missing from our service — serving,
directing traffic, setting up lights.
Dense fog rolls in to muffle,
yet amplify, red and blue flashes
flickering on our windows for hours.

A night of tears for someone’s parents
and his young fiancée, newly engaged,
grieving over hopelessly shattered pieces.
A toddler who can’t understand why
Daddy doesn’t come home. And whatever
does it mean: “Daddy’s gone?”
Puzzling words that will echo on and on
through so many tomorrows.

C.G.

I haven’t felt like posting for a few days; this verse will explain. The young man killed was an acquaintance; my husband knows the the young fiancée from his workplace and we’ve met the deceased at several staff Christmas parties. Such a pleasant young man, age 33 according to the news.

The north-bound train wasn’t going fast at all. Some have guessed that, since the pickup was heading west into the sunset, maybe the brilliance blinded the driver. But we can only speculate; the driver died in the crash. No doubt there’ll be a thorough investigation. Our hearts go out to the family.

Pathway of the Living

by Edgar Guest

The pathway of the living is our ever-present care,
let us do our best to smooth it and to make it bright and fair.
Let us travel it with kindness, let’s be careful as we tread,
and give until the living what we’d offer to the dead.

The pathway of the living we can beautify and grace;
we can line it deep with roses and make earth a happier place.
But we’ve done all mortals can do, when our prayers are softly said
for the souls of those that travel o’er the pathway of the dead.

The pathway of the living all our strength and courage needs;
there we ought to sprinkle favors, there we ought to sow our deeds.
There our smiles should be the brightest, there our kindest words be said,
for the angels have the keeping of the pathway of the dead.

From the book, Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest,
©1934 by the Reilly & Lee Co

Janey’s Future

Time for another Friday Fictioneers tale and as usual, I can’t resist putting in my hundred words worth. In spite of the fact that Sandra Crook has donated the photo of a friendly looking old tree, there’s been murder and mayhem, death and accident in a number of tales this week. (Oh, and one hugging tree. Trust Eric to squeeze his alien in somehow. 😉 )

This Charge of the Write Brigade is being commanded as usual by Major Wisoff-Fields, DFFA, ATP. If you’d like to contribute your own tale hop over to her blog and click the Blue Frog, which will morph into a trusty charger on which you can ride into the fray.

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

JANEY’S FUTURE

“Wish he’d listened. Ditched that rotten ladder!”

Janey stared at the tree. “Chan never was one for taking advice.”

I looked around. “Can you run this place alone?” With two tykes and another due soon? Dumb, but what do you say?

She shook her head, overwhelmed. “I should sell.”

I reached for her arm. “I got an idea… You been a good wife to Chan, Janey…and a good mom. He was so lucky. I know I’m some younger than you, but…do you think…”

She considered me awhile; my heart pounded something awful.

Her eyes sparkled. “Yeah. I think.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Historical fact:
It wasn’t a park but a prairie homestead, and the suddenly widowed Mary was riding home from her husband’s funeral with her single brother-in-law, who also lived on the farm. Seeing her desperate situation, he proposed marriage. She saw the wisdom in this; in those days he couldn’t stay helping her on the farm without raising a LOT of gossip. So they turned the team around, headed back to town, and found the preacher. Tough times call for some quick decisions.

Personal note:
I’m putting the finishing touches on a pdf of my book, Silver Morning Song, and would like to give some away in exchange for some honest feedback. (And hopefully generate a few reviews on Amazon or Kobo.) If you’re interested and have the time, please let me know. I can send pdf, mobi, or epub.

Silver Morning Song is a collection of poems and short stories that consider the delightful world around us and the trials of home and family as well as Christian life. In a voice sometimes humorous, sometimes serious, in short stories and parables, the writer tells of folks facing issues, decisions and temptations. These are interspersed with accessible poetic descriptions of the natural world and the changing seasons.

Finding Closure

A writer went forth to sow and as she sowed, some of her words fell among thorns…and sprang up into a 100-word story dealing with some harsh realities of life. I don’t know why such a peaceful scene should rake up such a memory, but here’s my thorny tale for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt. This dialogue is based on an extremely sad but true incident.

My thanks to our Prompt (in both senses) Chief Planter, Rochelle, for hosting our group, and to Jan Fields for the prompt photo. I really appreciate this opportunity to slice, chop, whittle and otherwise abbreviate until I (hopefully) have absolutely chaff-less grain to present at the FF Global Fair.

My apologies if I’m really slow getting around to checking out offerings at the other booths. I’m in final-revision mode for my first book and assembling another.

Photo © Jan Wayne Fields

Finding Closure

“So who found the remains?”

“Some teens on a camping trip, scrounging firewood,” Corporal Patel replied.

“Poor kids. They’ll need some strong knock-out drops tonight.”

“We figured he’d been offed. Anonymous tip got us his car. No contact, no bank withdrawals or credit card used since he disappeared.”

“Possible motives?” Sgt Zelinski hated cold cases.

“Friends say he was dealing. So… Couldn’t pay up? Turf war? Disgruntled buyer? We’ll likely never know unless we get somebody’s deathbed confession. His family’s been through seven months of hell; at least they have closure now.”

Zelinski nodded. “At this point that’s what’s really important.”

My Friends 

If you ever wonder what to say to someone who’s grieving, this post is a must-read. While it specifically addresses the death of a child, I think the wisdom here is useful for anyone who’s lost a loved one.

kathleenbduncan

I have friends who have had miscarriages.

I have friends who have had stillbirths.

I have friends who lost a baby to SIDS.

I have friends whose child drowned.

I have friends whose child died from cancer.

I have friends whose child died in a tornado.

I have friends whose child died from suicide.

I have friends whose child was murdered.

I have friends whose child died in a motorcycle wreck.

I have friends whose child died after a skateboard accident.

I have friends whose child died in a freak accident.

I have friends whose child died from heart disease or asthma or diabetes.

I have friends whose child died from drug overdose.

I have friends whose child died in a car wreck.

None of them like to take about the details of their child’s death.

They all love to speak of how their child lived.

When you meet a…

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