How did I survive?

How did I survive?

I believe that even behind closed doors each and every one of us is being watched. Whether it’s by a loved one or a fiend, all eyes are on you. I will admit that the idea of being watched by a spirit or a so-called ghost has always haunted me. Ghost busters and the thoughts of the Ouija board just wasn’t something I ultimately deemed true.

The summer I turned 14, my cousins and I were struck by an 18-wheeler. There were no skid marks and no sings of the 18-wheeler attempting to come to a stop. The impact of the crash sent our Honda Civic flying two hundred feet air borne hitting a ditch and flying another three hundred feet into a grass field.

When I awoke from my concussion I felt as if I was at the dentist office with a massive root canal and I could see the doctor drilling away at my tooth. The sound I was hearing was the exasperating sound of the Jaws of Life prying us out of the contorted metal that once resembled a little black sports car. I saw shattered glass all around me and realized that I somehow flew from the back seat of the car and became wedged between the driver’s seat and the driver’s side door.

My parents were vacationing in Niagara Falls at the time of the accident and of course I wanted nothing more than for them to be at my side during such an awful time. I had no one to comfort me and tell me everything was going to be okay. Much to my surprise, the cold and frightening ambulance ride I was dreading soon felt warm, it was as if my day went from being drowned by a thunder storm to a nice sunny day at the beach. I didn’t know why I felt this way but I knew I wasn’t alone. Someone was with me, but I didn’t know who or why. I knew nobody was there in person, perhaps in spirit. The thought that once made my heart skip suddenly felt comforting.

The doctors told us that some how, miraculously, everything was in our favor that day. The wheels of the car were turned at just the right angle to miss the on coming traffic when we were flung across the opposite lane. The Honda Civics’ gas tank was designed to be in the front of the rear wheels, rather than behind, so the car didn’t blow up when we were struck. The 18-wheeler that had hit us had a lower front end so it didn’t continue to crush the car and ride right over top of us. The next piece of information finally solved the puzzle for me of why I had felt strangely not alone during this horrible event. It was like all the jagged and unusual pieces finally pulled together and the mystery was solved. They went on to admit that this was a rare accident where it was actually beneficial that I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt. They said the belt could have caused serious internal injuries from being ejected so far forward. Now everything made sense, and I knew just what had happened. I told them they where wrong. I had my seatbelt on at the time of the accident. My grandfather was with me that summer day. He was my security and my savoir. He was my seatbelt.