• Photo by Viarami on pixabay

A parent hauls mangled metal onto the front lawn. Neighbors ask him why he has done that. The parent replies in a voice full of pathos and anger. “That’s the car my daughter was in, when a drunk driver hit her.”

           They respond sympathetically and inquire into the daughter’s injuries.

           “Killed her. Instantly.”

           No further questions about injuries are needed. The father’s fury rivals expressions of compassion.

The car’s remains—remain. The parent sits. Well-wishes and outrage of passers-by wane. Pity sets in. A few brave neighbors offer to help dispose of the relic that now has vines growing around it.

“No!”

A found-objects-sculptor drops by with a sketch to change the wrecked car into a memorial.

“No. No prettifying.”

In another town a family mourns the death of a loved one, killed by a driver who was texting. Family and friends gather and give support. An opportunity to speak in court of the immeasurable loss comes after the driver has been found guilty. For a long time, the color of their lives is gray.

The sister’s victim is going home when she sees a driver texting. She yells at the driver, blares her horn, and wants to bang into the car. Recognizing the rage she is feeling, she pulls onto a side street, turns off the engine. Her trembling eases.

That evening the research begins. Incidence of wrecks attributed to use of smart phones while driving. Within the week she is on the phone with the principals of area schools. By the end of the month she is standing in front of students with her story of anger, sorrow, and loss.

Grief can lead to smoldering hate. Or it can lead to a new purpose in life. There is no “getting over” the death of a loved one. But the pain can lessen. When the loss is an injustice, we can choose between anger that destroys or anger that propels one into a constructive response. In that way the life of the loved one is honored.

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