The Tree of Tragedy Bears the Sweetest of Fruit

The kindness I never wanted turns out to be what I most desperately need

Since time immemorial people have marked the passage of time by checking off dates on a calendar. While you can still do that in 2023, there are now other options to orient yourself in relation to important dates.

One of the ways I’ve been doing that is by looking at Chloe’s last TikTok video, filmed just two hours before she died. Just this morning it switched from 6d to 1w. We’re now measuring the time in weeks. In the blink of an eye it will be years. Such is life.

During the 1w since her death I’ve been overwhelmed with acts of love and kindness. People have offered to help in so many beautiful ways that it seems almost impossible to figure out how to receive it. I’ll be eternally grateful for the love and support.

That’s not the kindness I want to write about today.

I will write about it. Just not today.

The Light in the Darkness

Most of the time we get through life by putting one foot in front of the other, day after day. It’s mostly mundane punctuated by moments of intense experiences and emotions. Life is a journey that affords each one of us the chance to live the highest of highest and the lowest of lows.

If you’re anything like me, you often wonder how you’ll respond when it really matters. What will my actions reveal about my character? Will I fold when others need me most or will I be resolute and courageous in the face of whatever scares me most? Ultimately, every one of us will find out whether we like the answer or not.

To see a candle’s light one must take it into a dark place
— Ursula K. Le Guin

In the short time since Chloe’s fatal car accident I’ve seen three incredible examples of kindness I never wanted and have desperately needed. If events had unfolded differently I would never have had the chance to receive them. The tree of tragedy bears the sweetest of fruit.

One of the way people left behind drive themselves mad is by wondering. Wondering what led up to her accident. Wondering what her last moments were like. Wondering if she suffered. Wondering if and how the other people will recover. Wondering what I could have done differently as a father. Wondering what might have been. Wondering what will be.

I’ve learned a few things since Cindy’s death and one of them is to wonder without attachment. I let my mind wander wherever it needs to roam, doing my best not to make up stories I get emotionally attached to. I let myself live in the questions knowing that some may never be answered. It’s not alway easy. I do my best.

And then, when I have least expected it, an answer appears that can be deeply upsetting and profoundly comforting. The dichotomy of tragedy is like a maze from which you can’t escape. When you stop looking for the exit is when it appears in front of you.

The Power of Forgiveness

Chloe’s car accident has had, and will continue to have, long-lasting repercussions for the people involved.

The grandmother and grandkids in the other car were hurt too. The kids have gone home and the grandmother is still in the hospital. I haven’t met her yet but I hear she is recovering. Physically at least. Who knows how long the mental and emotional scars will last.

I reached out to the dad yesterday. I haven’t heard back from him yet and I’m terrified of what he might say to me about Chloe. I wouldn't blame him a bit for hating her. If he does, it’s a cross I will have to bear.

Jacob, the young man in the car with her was seriously injured and will be recovering for long time. His family is going through hell.

And my daughter caused it all.

The car accident was entirely her fault. She was too inexperienced and driving way too fast. It’s something almost all of us have done in our youth and most of somehow managed to escape unscathed.

Chloe and her victims didn’t.

And here’s the thing. Jacob’s mom and closest friend have forgiven Chloe. They knew her and thought the world of her. I was on the phone with them the other day and they sternly told me as I was crying, “Jason! We loved Chloe and nothing, NOTHING is going to change that.”

Their grace, compassion and love while trying to navigate their worst nightmare is indescribable. Their concern for me and my family’s wellbeing has revealed a side of the human soul that I hope more of us have the chance to witness…hopefully in different circumstances.

Each time Melody comes back from the hospital she says some version of, “They are SO nice.”

I hardly know them and deeply love them.

I know they will be a part of our lives forever and that’s one of the most important gifts to emerge from this tragedy.

Service of the Highest Order

A few days ago a friend reached out to me who happens to be a police officer with the London Police Service. This is what he said to me:

Through the grapevine I found out that one of my coworkers was on the scene… I know it doesn’t offer much but in a scary moment, your daughter had a warm, trained soul that tried to help her. She is one of our best. Stay strong man

I immediately started sobbing knowing that a good person tried her best to save her. I’m sitting at Starbucks sobbing all over again as I reflect on this moment and write about it.

He offered to connect me to the officer who was on the scene and this is how she responded to me:

Hi Jason. My deepest sympathies for your loss, words cannot express how sorry I am for the loss of your daughter. I feel like our lives are intertwined in such a way that it feels like I have lost a daughter too. I am so glad I was there and tried to help them and not give up on her. If you think it would help you to talk about it I would be happy to hear back from you. Be strong!

People like this walk amongst us. Knowing they will do everything in their power to help the people we love most when they need it most will help me sleep a little easier at night.

Chloe and Mel’s biological mom was a police officer. She was one of these people. Long after she left this earth, one her own was called on to help her daughter when she needed it most. It’s one of the many ironies that present themselves during tragedy.

The Random Samaritan

Jacob’s family shared a phone number with me a few days ago. It was the number of the first person on the scene of the accident. He was just a guy going about his life until he was called on to intervene in the life of another.

The thought of talking to him made me want to throw up. I was afraid of what of what he would say. Of what I would learn.

I slept on it for twenty four hours and decided to call him for two reasons. The first was to thank him from the bottom of my heart for trying to help. The second was because I knew he must be suffering and I wanted to see if I could do something, anything to alleviate some of his pain….even if in the smallest of ways.

I called him yesterday and we talked for close to an hour. He’s a wonderful human being who has been intensely affected by his experience. I’m so grateful he shared it with me.

He felt guilty for being so affected by his experience because he was comparing it to mine. In his mind, losing a daughter was worse that what he is going through. It’s not better, it’s not worse. They are both awful and that’s all that needs to be said. Even in his grief he tried to comfort me.

He told me Chloe didn’t suffer. He said that amidst the carnage she looked like she was peacefully sleeping. He answered a question that, if left unanswered, might have tortured my soul for years to come.

He is a man of faith and told me his has since told him that he was placed in that place at that time for a reason. The front of the car was on fire and he had to get Chloe and Jacob out of the car. The door was jammed shut.

He is six foot four and two hundred forty pounds and told me he ripped the door open with a strength that was not his own. Would a smaller person have been able to get them out of the car? It doesn’t matter, because Tyler was there.

I told him that knowing there was a person of his calibre and character there trying to do the right thing means the world to me. Chloe and Jacob were surrounded by people they had never met and yet cared enough to give everything they had to help.

If that doesn’t give you hope for humanity, I don’t know what will.

We talked about so many things. Our conversation ranged from the accident, to stoic philosophy, to grief, to Christianity and to friendship. I made a new friend yesterday, in the most unlikely of circumstances. I’m going to meet him in person on Friday and forewarned him that I’m going to hug him with all the gratitude I can muster.

Thankfully he’s physically big enough to take it. If he hugs me back, I might be in trouble.

So Many More

There are countless more acts of love and kindness that I’ll share one day: the amazing young people organizing fundraisers for our families, to Carl recommending someone he trusts to handle Chloe’s cremation and service, to the countless, loving people who have reached out and offered to help.

I never would have the chance to experience any of this love were in not for this tragedy.

I would trade them all in a heartbeat to have Chloe back with us.

But I can’t ever have her back.

So I’ll do the next best thing. I’ll try my damndest to receive people’s love and kindness with open arms and an open heart.

Thank you from all of us.