One Friday morning, as I drove home from the gym, I saw a body on the freeway. By the time I passed the scene, it was covered, but it was right there, in the left lane. Someone had lost their life right there.
I couldn’t even fathom what had happened. I left for the gym at 4:30am and everything was fine. Traffic was light, as is normal for that time. On the treadmill, I watched the monitors, reading headlines as they popped up. I didn’t see anything about an accident. When I left the gym at 5:25am, I was feeling pretty good and drove with my stereo blaring, singing loudly with the song playing. I was cruising along the freeway, making the transition from the 52 east to the 67 south. Suddenly I saw the flashing blues and reds and I braked. Traffic was light in that direction, but there were cars in front of me slowing to a crawl.
The three lanes of traffic were being directed into one lane on the far right, my lane. I don’t like to look when I come upon an accident scene because I don’t want to see too much. I drove slowly past the patrol cars, and the ambulance and saw the yellow cover draped over a figure. It was probably 10 feet from me and I stared. Over the divide, on the northbound side of the freeway, there were a few cars pulled to the side, but none appeared to be damaged.
At home, I couldn’t shake the image. I told my husband. I messaged my coworker and told her. I told just about anyone I spoke with that day. What I couldn’t understand was how he ended up on the other side of the freeway. I kept checking the news websites for updates on the investigation. I wanted to learn what happened. I wanted to know more about the person who was lying under the yellow cover. I kept looking for information.
The news report said the man was on his way to work. His vehicle had collided with another vehicle and they had pulled over to the shoulder. He got out of his car and was hit by another vehicle, the impact had thrown him over the highway divider. It seemed so senseless, the way his life ended. I didn’t know this man but I struggled with his death.
I usually have something on in the background for noise while I’m working. I was listening to NPR on most days. Every hour they gave a brief news update and a traffic report. When reporting traffic, the word accident is not used. Each time I heard of a collision, or crash, I began to feel anxious or irritable. I couldn’t pinpoint the reason. I had been listening to the same station with the same personalities for months. Nothing had changed.
It took at least a month for me to understand how this man’s death had affected my life. I had gotten to the point where a sense of dread would overcome me when I had to drive somewhere. It was something that I could talk myself through, but it was still there, seemingly out of nowhere. One day I noticed my shoulders tighten as I listened to the traffic report. That’s when I understood the cause of all my anxiety was the scene I drove past that Friday morning.
I still think about that scene from time to time. I still wonder about the man killed. He was young. There were so many possibilities. I hope he lived well.
Take the 52 west 