OnÂ ThursdayÂ night a mere thirteen hours before I was to check into the hospital for my procedure, I was reminded how quickly life can slip from our grasp.
Gigglez and I were at Esther Short Park to watch Bree play in one of the jazz bands.
It was a very good evening, as Gigglez had packed a picnic dinner and we were munching the best chips in the world with sun dried tomato hummus.
The music was what you would expect from high school jazz bands.
We heard the screech of tires and a crunch, then some spinning of tires. A few minutes later we heard the emergency vehicles and that got my curiosity going.
I wandered off to see what was up, and as I walked out the gates to the sidewalk I saw the unexpected.
There was an elderly man, who had been knocked from his mobility wheelchair while crossing in the crosswalk by aÂ mid-sizedÂ pickup.
The first responders were performing CPR and I watched with morbid curiosity and hope.
All of a sudden the responders stood and one walked briskly away. My mind changed directions as the gal briskly walked back, but with a sheet in her hand.
It was interesting on a people watching level how the mood/tone changed as thatÂ sheetÂ came out and was spread across the decedent.
There was quite a bit of disbelief, shock, and sadness as we let the loss settle in around us.