| Biographical Non-Fiction posted April 6, 2023 | Chapters: |
...43 60 -61- 
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Death is only be for the old.
A chapter in the book Spectre
Demise
by Lea Tonin1
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
The day was almost serene. The mid-summer lazy breeze tickled the forest branches while today's batch of insects played hide and seek with the lake's aquatic gymnasts. Even deep in the Caribou Boreal forests off the grid and far from any services, life here was never boring. I spent my days helping my mother and her husband at their fishing and hunting resort.
We would tag the fish in the river for the fisheries department. I would perform fishing guide duties all year round. Fly fishing with Cronameds in the spring. Brown Sedge and Tom Thumbs in the summer. Spin casting with any shiny green spinner flashing in the water, fish love them in the fall. Ice fishing in the winter. Auger to cut the hole, high test fishing line, downrigger with flasher, and some chicken and/or fish eggs for bait. Peace can be found in a life like that which I did back then.
When not doing things in and around the resort, I would do what a lot of young people do back then and maintain a social life. I'd go to pig roasts, lakeside parties, talk with friends or hang out with my cousin, who lives on the other side of the plateau.
One particular evening I was coming out of the forest with my date to attend a party in Clinton. We were discussing the merits of driving over cattle guards fast or the demerits in his case. We also had a heated debate on whether or not you should stop at a red light before you turn right. Of course, you stop first, look both ways and then proceed. Not in his world either.
Heading up the highway discussion continued with light banter and chuckles back and forth.
Enjoying the breeze and chatting with one another when a pick-up truck with two men raced around us at a reckless speed!
I thought they must be partiers as they're quite often on the resorts during the summer months. I remarked upon it how they might get in an accident and carried on down the freeway. Rounding the top of the hill, the racing truck was stopped diagonally across both lanes, two men jumped out and flagged us down.
Do any of you have first aid? My daughter fell off the truck and broke her leg!" l looked at my date. I said, "I do!" Then shouted at my date"Call an ambulance!" While running to their truck.
I looked in the cab of the truck and my heart collapsed. Immediately I saw the smallest form of a very young girl. Her twisted leg was broken at an odd angle. She was unconscious. Shallow breath, if any at all, emitted from this little child.
The automaton within me sprang into action. Feelings shut down as often does in the face of a medical emergency. The actions were all I knew at the time.
I began to shout orders while gently laying the child straight on the pavement and began CPR. I instructed one man to raise her legs. The other man shouted "But her leg is broken! ". I explained that she wasn't breathing and that she needed oxygen for her brain. As I assessed and administered the young girl, I registered the scent of alcohol in the air.
I knew ....while my heart bled but still wanted to deny it, I knew from the first exhale from the little girl's lungs, that she was gone.
There is nothing in the world that can prepare you for the smell of death. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to not be sick in her mouth.
I can still see her little blue eyes and a single tooth in the front of her mouth and her short brown hair. In the track of my memory, I can see her as plain as I see the world around me now.
I carried on for what seemed like forever administering CPR to a young girl who wasn't responding. All I remember is seeing dozens of feet around me, just the ankles down. Someone was holding my hair back and another someone was holding my sweater. Finally, the ambulance came and helped me give CPR.
Gently they lifted her onto the gurney and transported her to the nearest hospital. Emergency now in the ambulance, my feelings could no longer be contained. I sat there on my knees on the pavement not wanting to believe what I already knew. Attempting to shake off the bewilderment and panic of the moment, the slamming of my rampant heart, I dusted myself off with the intent to follow the ambulance.
In Caribou country, there is not a lot on offer by way of accommodations that are a short distance from the hospital. A couple of motels that are usually full notwithstanding. Going anywhere up there took at least an hour usually more to get to services.
As is the nature of people up there in a remote country where the barter system still exists. I followed them to the hospital intent on giving them lodgings for the night hoping beyond hope that I was wrong about this small child.
I came in the main entrance, my shocked-looking date trailing behind me, I walked down the corridor, turned the corner and approached the nurses' desk. I asked about the small child, and she looked up at me with sad eyes and said " She's gone... but you knew that though didn't you?" "Yes," I nodded and started crying which did not stop for the next three days.
I went in pursuit to find the two men still meaning to offer shelter. I could see them at the end of the hall just in time to see two police officers arresting the father and his friend for vehicular homicide.
The vague smell of alcohol I picked up when I first arrived on the scene which I overlooked and ignored, slapped me n the head. My heart dropped almost to the point where recovery was in. The truth was, they were riding in an ATV, the sprite of a girl was in front and he rolled the ATV down a ravine effectively crushing the little girl between himself and the steering wheel. This news I discovered while talking to reporters and police officers.
For days, I was l unable to get that smell out of my nose and the taste out of my mouth always with guilt regret and sorrow ever present ready to pounce should I not be vigilant. Guilt because I could not save her. Regret that I wasn't there sooner. Sorrow for a small child whose life was cut so very short, a fact that shouldn't exist.
Six months later I received a phone call from the mother of this child who begged me for the truth. Her husband wouldn't give it to her except to say that the child's last words were, "Daddy, it hurts ."
I went to see her and saw her other daughter too. She was the spitting image of the one I tried to help. Perhaps her sister lives on in this girl as they look so very much alike.
I explained to her that the truth is not pretty but I would tell it to her anyway if she desired and so I did. Her husband and his friend were released from criminal charges due to the technicality of not being able to prove the accident from the time they consumed the alcohol. The little girl's mother asked if I would participate in a civil suit. I gave her my word that I would try
I never heard from her again..... My heart still aches for that small child. A little girl I will never forget as long as I live...
She is always with me you see...the small girl with blue eyes and the missing tooth and the short brown hair. Just at the corner of my eye with a ready smile waiving her small little hand and saying, "Hi, my name is Cara... " I did at that time
True Story Contest contest entry
The day was almost serene. The mid-summer lazy breeze tickled the forest branches while today's batch of insects played hide and seek with the lake's aquatic gymnasts. Even deep in the Caribou Boreal forests off the grid and far from any services, life here was never boring. I spent my days helping my mother and her husband at their fishing and hunting resort.
We would tag the fish in the river for the fisheries department. I would perform fishing guide duties all year round. Fly fishing with Cronameds in the spring. Brown Sedge and Tom Thumbs in the summer. Spin casting with any shiny green spinner flashing in the water, fish love them in the fall. Ice fishing in the winter. Auger to cut the hole, high test fishing line, downrigger with flasher, and some chicken and/or fish eggs for bait. Peace can be found in a life like that which I did back then.
When not doing things in and around the resort, I would do what a lot of young people do back then and maintain a social life. I'd go to pig roasts, lakeside parties, talk with friends or hang out with my cousin, who lives on the other side of the plateau.
One particular evening I was coming out of the forest with my date to attend a party in Clinton. We were discussing the merits of driving over cattle guards fast or the demerits in his case. We also had a heated debate on whether or not you should stop at a red light before you turn right. Of course, you stop first, look both ways and then proceed. Not in his world either.
Heading up the highway discussion continued with light banter and chuckles back and forth.
Enjoying the breeze and chatting with one another when a pick-up truck with two men raced around us at a reckless speed!
I thought they must be partiers as they're quite often on the resorts during the summer months. I remarked upon it how they might get in an accident and carried on down the freeway. Rounding the top of the hill, the racing truck was stopped diagonally across both lanes, two men jumped out and flagged us down.
Do any of you have first aid? My daughter fell off the truck and broke her leg!" l looked at my date. I said, "I do!" Then shouted at my date"Call an ambulance!" While running to their truck.
I looked in the cab of the truck and my heart collapsed. Immediately I saw the smallest form of a very young girl. Her twisted leg was broken at an odd angle. She was unconscious. Shallow breath, if any at all, emitted from this little child.
The automaton within me sprang into action. Feelings shut down as often does in the face of a medical emergency. The actions were all I knew at the time.
I began to shout orders while gently laying the child straight on the pavement and began CPR. I instructed one man to raise her legs. The other man shouted "But her leg is broken! ". I explained that she wasn't breathing and that she needed oxygen for her brain. As I assessed and administered the young girl, I registered the scent of alcohol in the air.
I knew ....while my heart bled but still wanted to deny it, I knew from the first exhale from the little girl's lungs, that she was gone.
There is nothing in the world that can prepare you for the smell of death. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to not be sick in her mouth.
I can still see her little blue eyes and a single tooth in the front of her mouth and her short brown hair. In the track of my memory, I can see her as plain as I see the world around me now.
I carried on for what seemed like forever administering CPR to a young girl who wasn't responding. All I remember is seeing dozens of feet around me, just the ankles down. Someone was holding my hair back and another someone was holding my sweater. Finally, the ambulance came and helped me give CPR.
Gently they lifted her onto the gurney and transported her to the nearest hospital. Emergency now in the ambulance, my feelings could no longer be contained. I sat there on my knees on the pavement not wanting to believe what I already knew. Attempting to shake off the bewilderment and panic of the moment, the slamming of my rampant heart, I dusted myself off with the intent to follow the ambulance.
In Caribou country, there is not a lot on offer by way of accommodations that are a short distance from the hospital. A couple of motels that are usually full notwithstanding. Going anywhere up there took at least an hour usually more to get to services.
As is the nature of people up there in a remote country where the barter system still exists. I followed them to the hospital intent on giving them lodgings for the night hoping beyond hope that I was wrong about this small child.
I came in the main entrance, my shocked-looking date trailing behind me, I walked down the corridor, turned the corner and approached the nurses' desk. I asked about the small child, and she looked up at me with sad eyes and said " She's gone... but you knew that though didn't you?" "Yes," I nodded and started crying which did not stop for the next three days.
I went in pursuit to find the two men still meaning to offer shelter. I could see them at the end of the hall just in time to see two police officers arresting the father and his friend for vehicular homicide.
The vague smell of alcohol I picked up when I first arrived on the scene which I overlooked and ignored, slapped me n the head. My heart dropped almost to the point where recovery was in. The truth was, they were riding in an ATV, the sprite of a girl was in front and he rolled the ATV down a ravine effectively crushing the little girl between himself and the steering wheel. This news I discovered while talking to reporters and police officers.
For days, I was l unable to get that smell out of my nose and the taste out of my mouth always with guilt regret and sorrow ever present ready to pounce should I not be vigilant. Guilt because I could not save her. Regret that I wasn't there sooner. Sorrow for a small child whose life was cut so very short, a fact that shouldn't exist.
Six months later I received a phone call from the mother of this child who begged me for the truth. Her husband wouldn't give it to her except to say that the child's last words were, "Daddy, it hurts ."
I went to see her and saw her other daughter too. She was the spitting image of the one I tried to help. Perhaps her sister lives on in this girl as they look so very much alike.
I explained to her that the truth is not pretty but I would tell it to her anyway if she desired and so I did. Her husband and his friend were released from criminal charges due to the technicality of not being able to prove the accident from the time they consumed the alcohol. The little girl's mother asked if I would participate in a civil suit. I gave her my word that I would try
I never heard from her again..... My heart still aches for that small child. A little girl I will never forget as long as I live...
She is always with me you see...the small girl with blue eyes and the missing tooth and the short brown hair. Just at the corner of my eye with a ready smile waiving her small little hand and saying, "Hi, my name is Cara... " I did at that time
A memory in my head of the young girl that occupies space in my head rent free.
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