Atomictumor

I’ve been spending some time this week thinking of the Ashley Paine situation, just like damn near everybody up here has.

For me (and others, as Netmom indicated), it hits at an odd time, happening at the same time we were all dealing with BJ and her illness last year. Today, the paper had a story about the girl who seems to have (hopefully) had a successful heart transplant after Ashley’s family was thoughtful enough to donate her organs.

Been there, done that.

While I can’t deny that it would be SO MUCH WORSE to lose a child to an accident like this than, its still something I can relate to.  Its interesting, because I’m watching a tragedy happen to strangers that are nonetheless connected to me through neighborhood bonds, and its the first time I’ve seen this happen since living through one myself.

I want to be angry.  I want to yell and holler about the things that would have prevented this.  I want to blame the city, and the schools, and the police, for creating a situation where a child has to cross an intersection that is simply not made for pedestrian traffic.

But thats not fair, is it?  Because I can put as much of the blame on myself, for starting a movement to try to solve problems like this, and then letting it drop.  Eaves, Bos, and I have expressed to each other much of the same kind of thinking, that if we’d kept this thing going, and let it grow as much as it was looking like, instead of letting life get in the way, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

Maybe.  Just like, maybe, if GAC wasn’t on the Keflex, or if we hadn’t played tennis in the rain that day in August, or a million other maybes, it wouldn’t have happened the way it did.

I guess my point is, it happened.  And all the planning in the world wouldn’t have stopped it.  Not better crosswalks.  Not police.  Not busses.  She was on a bike, fell off, and died.

Maybe because we’ve seen tragedy too close, we’re taking it harder.  I fear for those people, tho, that don’t have the insight that I’ve learned, who deal with remote tragedy like this by growing angry, and pointing fingers, and jumping up and down like rabid monkeys.  The people who deal with pain by getting angry, like I did when I was 3, because they might never have experienced it.

Who knows. I’m ramblin, and I have stuff to do.