The light in the darkness

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” -John 1:5

I’m coming up on four years on staff at The Advocate-Messenger. 

In those four years, I’ve witnessed the best humanity has to offer, from children helping other children, to a community coming together to heal when their own has been gunned down.

In that same token, I’ve witnessed the worst. Murders, suicides, beatings, rapes, acts against children and babies, abuse of animals. I’ve seen hate spewed, hatred spread; I’ve seen lives lost, children and families mourned, futures destroyed.

I’ve witnessed it all. Usually from a safe distance, because it’s my job to remain neutral, to tell the story without telling my emotions, to stick to the facts.

But sometimes, it’s hard. Because sometimes it’s not easy to be seperate from the story.

Yesterday, there was a fatality accident. I covered it, as I do, I spoke to people, I took photos of the helicopter in flight and the ambulance as it drove away. I photographed cars lined down the street, emergency officials doing their best to manage the scene as they waited for the state police to arrive and take over.

I suspected it was bad. They kept me away from the scene, which was hampered by hills and rain. That’s usually your first clue. Initial radio traffic said they needed multiple helicopters, that’s another clue. Weather prevented all but one, a terrible thing to hear.

But I didn’t know how bad. 

When it comes to wrecks, there’s a bit of inconsistency on how to handle those among journalists. Some think that people need and deserve to see the cars, etc. Some question the need for that. 

I have trouble with wrecks, sometimes. Especially when I know it’s a fatality or a potential fatality. I get there and those emotions get involved. My head ponders, do people need to see this? Does the family? If it were me, would my family?

My head knows the “right photo” to take. My heart has trouble letting that happen. 

And sometimes, like last night, the decision is made for you. You get lights, you get traffic, but you don’t get the wreck. There are those that fight against it and perhaps I should. I never know how to handle resistance like that.

Today, I found out the names of those killed in the accident. It was a husband and wife. There were two others in the car, but their names haven’t been released yet. 

I didn’t know the husband. I knew the wife. I met her a few years ago when I did a story about their son. As I heard the names this morning and began to make the connections, I felt a little sick to my stomach. 

It’s always tough when there’s a fatality confirmation. It’s heart-breaking if you let it be, but it’s usually possible to maintain that mental barrier, to keep your emotions in check.

It’s much harder when you realize that your life has crossed paths with them before. When you learn that it’s someone you know, maybe not well, but you know them. She and I had run into each other on other occasions. She was an active part of the community and she always had a smile for me.

And now, I am left wondering about their son. He was a teenager at the time I wrote the story, still is, and now he is an orphan. Old enough to possibly care for himself, but far too young to have to.

If you have a minute, say a prayer for him. I’m not sure if he was in the car; the passenger’s names haven’t been released yet. But remember him.

Life as he knows it has changed and it’s not very fair at all. Pray that he can find light in the darkness.

And if you have another minute, I ask you remember the emergency responders. What they do, what they see, is so very difficult. Whether in a small community, where things don’t happen often, or in a big city where it’s every few minutes, it can’t be easy.

Be safe out there. Share your love with your loved ones. Be kind to strangers.