Incident in Acheson

On October 18th, 2019, I was traveling to Edmonton and had to stop in Acheson for fuel in my company issued pick up truck. About to exit on the service road, the light turned yellow. Driving a company vehicle and terrified of getting a red light ticket, I stopped on the yellow. The vehicle following me expected me to run the yellow light. The driver was unable to stop and collided with the rear of my company issued pick up. I was terrified by the contact. I had been issued the pick up to complete my role in workplace safety and now I had been in a safety incident. Hardly the successful completion of the day’s activities, the pick up, a source of pride was dented on the bumper and tailgate. Devastated I reached out to my supervisor to report the incident not thinking that the incident had left me traumatized. The truck was dented and as I have come to learn; so was I.

You see, October 18th was the one year anniversary of the tragic passing of my best friend, confidante and spouse, Zabrina of a heart attack at the way too young age of 46. I was traveling home from the US on a work trip when I learned that my wife had passed away. I was in the Denver Airport with countless other people and yet I have never been so alone in all my life. I knew only 2 other people in the airport. They were work colleagues and were certainly consoling but it was a devastating day without anyone to console me on the flight from Denver to Edmonton. The darkness I felt on that trip home can never be described. The incident in Acheson sent me for a loop. I feared for my job. I feared that damaging the truck would be just another in a long string of devastating events. I was in a downward spiral. November 8, 2019 was my 51st birthday.

 Despite my best efforts, I had not been able to reboot my grief recovery after the incident in Acheson. I was back to that airport and that devastating loneliness and darkness. I was not in a good place when I went for supper with my parents. My birthday was not a positive event but rather an acknowledgment that I am probably going to face 40 more years alone. I was not able to move past her death. I was alone. I am alone.

 I have been struggling in recent days and weeks. I have reached out to a Counsellor and am engaging in my second visit on Thursday. I have terrifying anxiety when another vehicle is too close to me. I have driven more than half a million miles in my adult life. I have taken three driving techniques courses. I am a well trained driver. I was devastated by the incident in Acheson. It ruined my belief that I was an extremely careful driver. It is not driving that I fear. It is fear of being alone for 40 years. It has taken me time to realize what that means. The incident in Acheson was not a trigger of driving fears. The incident was a trigger that my life was changed forever on a October 18, 2018. I was given a horrifying physical reminder of the trauma of that day. The crash mirrored the crash in my personal life. Something external to my efforts, another driver or the devastating news that my wife had died had destroyed my world.

 For those who don’t know, GM and it’s parts workers were engaged in a contract dispute that left the workers on strike for 3 weeks and put parts on hold. The truck remains un-repaired. The dents are a constant reminder of that day. I see it every time I go out to head to work. It is a constant reminder of my broken psyche. I am dented and there is a hole in my life. I wash the truck religiously as if trying to repair the damage with water. You cannot repair anything by washing it; not your truck or your soul. Tomorrow I am going to my family doctor to discuss my high blood pressure and perhaps even an anti depressant to try to find my way back from the crippling events of two straight October 18ths; the darkest day... Hopefully I will hear this week that a bumper has come in to the local auto body shop. The truck can the be repaired. The reminder of that devastating day will somehow be hidden.

 I have been inspired by Fred Colby and the book Widower To Widower to try journaling. He too wrote describing his experiencing of grief after the death of his wife Theresa. I am hopeful that doing this will help me find closure in the death of my best friend, Zabrina. I miss her more than words can say.

 Stan