Life Is Short

"Dan, uhh...this is Dad," my dad began his phone message as he usually did. But this time, his voice sounded a little more sober than usual. He continued, "John and Mike rolled the truck on their way back to Utah. They are OK but I thought you should know." Immediately I called my little brother, hoping the second part of my father's message was, indeed, true.

He was OK. I then left the party I was at and headed down to Cedar City to pick up him and Mike. After three hours of anticipation on the road, I pulled up to a hole-in-the-wall Mexican food hut where my shaken-up brother and his friend were found.

I gave John a huge hug, then he looked down at himself and said, "Man, I ruined my jacket." That is so John. He then told me what had happened:

"We were driving 80 mph on a clear road and then came up to an overpass. Apparently, the top of the overpass was full of black ice. We slid to the right and hit the right barrier and flipped. Then we slid upside down for about 300 feet. After we stopped, I turned to Mike while hanging upside down and made sure he was OK. Mike then saw two white lights coming towards us. He closed his eyes and the oncoming car hit us. After we stopped moving I dropped out of my seat and kicked my door open. Miraculously, we made it out alive."

I could have lost my brother two days ago. So often we see through the lens of denial: "That never happens to me." Well, it almost did to me. I think we can cherish our loved ones more than we do. You never know when those we love are gone.