At 9:39 PM, my phone chimed, shattering the evening calm. It was my daughter’s friend, her voice laced with panic. “Emma got hit by a car!” I made her repeat it four times, the words sounding foreign, like a foreign language I couldn’t comprehend.
We were in the city, celebrating our anniversary while our 16-year-old daughter, Emma, attended a concert with her friends. We had just dropped them off and were looking forward to an intimate dinner. But in a flash, everything changed.
Fortunately, we were only a few blocks away. I rushed to the scene, where emergency responders were already there, tending to Emma, who was alive—though shaken, bleeding, and battered. Relief washed over me, yet my husband yelled at me to get the other girls home. Despite my desire to stay, I knew I couldn’t leave them alone in the city, so I shifted into autopilot, fueled by adrenaline.
I hailed a cab, took the long train ride home, and battled dead cell phones, feeling utterly disconnected from my husband and the world. The “what ifs” plagued my mind relentlessly. I saw her sitting up, speaking, and yet the dark thoughts crept in. “What if she has internal injuries? What if I have to plan a funeral? How can a parent go home without their child?”
My mind oscillated between hope and despair. “No, she’s fine,” I told myself. Yet, the anxiety returned, gnawing at my sanity for over two hours. I finally remembered a Novena my mother had given me years ago, which I always kept in my wallet. With trembling hands, I pulled it out and recited it repeatedly, praying for my daughter’s safety, clinging to every word.
Eventually, I reached the hospital where Emma was taken. The night in the ICU was a blur of sleepless hours. I flinched at every beep of the machines, anxiously monitoring her vitals. Fear gripped me; I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, making even simple decisions feel insurmountable.
The first few hours were a foggy haze, where reality blurred and I questioned everything around me. I was terrified to ask if she was truly okay, afraid of the truth. My heart raced for a full 24 hours, and every nerve in my body felt exposed. The bile in my throat and the shaking of my hands reflected the turmoil within.
News trickled in slowly, each detail more alarming than the last. Emma had been struck by a car traveling 40 miles per hour. The doctors were astonished at her survival—a miracle, they called it. Aside from some bumps, bruises, and a possible brain bleed, she had no broken bones. I felt profoundly grateful, but dark thoughts lingered, reminding me of how close I had come to losing her.
Days passed before the sound of her friend’s panicked voice began to fade from my memory. I can now close my eyes without envisioning the horrific moment I witnessed. I’ve learned to cherish life more deeply, realizing that every day is precious. In those moments of uncertainty, I found strength within myself and recognized the incredible support from those around me. It reminded me of the importance of being present and compassionate toward everyone, as we all have our own stories to bear.
I feel incredibly thankful that Emma emerged from this ordeal with just a limp, a small reminder of what could have been. She doesn’t remember the accident, and for that, I am blessed. I now hold her closer and savor every moment, knowing that everything can change in the blink of an eye.
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In summary, this experience has taught me to appreciate life, embrace the strength within, and understand the fragility of our existence. Every moment matters, and in an instant, everything can change.
Keyphrase: “life lessons from a near tragedy”
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