I agreed to meet with the bereaved husband today (see earlier post for back story). We set up a lunch time meeting in a quiet local bar. There was no sign of anyone matching his description when I arrived so I ordered a wine and found a booth where I had a good view of the door. I was starving but didn’t want to be in the middle of my lunch when he arrived so I didn’t order anything. I was nervous as all hell. I spotted him the second he walked in, he was dishevelled and looking shell shocked. He looked around, spotted me and I beckoned him over.
It was one of the most difficult conversations of my life.
The poor man is still understandably raw with emotion and was obviously convinced that whatever I had to say would bring him comfort. I told him everything that happened on Thursday night, from the second I pulled over until I finished with the cops nearly an hour later.
I wish I could say I helped him but I don’t think I did – I had nothing to offer that was going to bring him any tangible relief. I told him everything she’d said hoping that things that hadn’t made any sense to me may make some to him but he seemed as confused as I’d been at the time – she was obviously incoherent due to her injuries. I hope that sometime later he’ll be able to draw some comfort from the fact that she wasn’t alone and I held her hand and talked to her soothingly until the ambo’s took over. According to him, by the time she was loaded in the ambulance she was pretty much fully unconscious. Her heart failed repeatedly on the way to the hospital and she couldn’t be revived the last time. She died before he could even get to her. Tragic.
I am totally drained by the whole experience. I have cried more than once during the afternoon at work. I feel so sorry for him.
And now I’m weeping again……need sleep………goodnight.