To the Woman Who Lost Her Daughter...

I don't know where else to write this, but I feel it needs to be put out into the universe.

The other day I went for a motorcycle ride with my boyfriend of 9 years. He and I dropped our two babies off at my friends house and went for a cruise out to visit my boyfriend's dad. On the way back home, we stopped at Walmart to pick up some much needed items, things that we had been putting off buying all month, and met up with my boyfriends riding buddy.

While we were packing up our things to leave, a woman with tears welled up in her eyes stopped to speak with us.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I just wanted to warn you three to be careful. I lost my daughter a few months ago, she was killed in a head on collision while riding her motorcycle."

At first we were all kind of bewildered by the randomness of the situation, and all we could muster up was an "I'm sorry for your loss." This was pretty much an auto response to hearing that someone has lost a loved one—it's just one of those things you say without really thinking sometimes. I can only imagine the looks on our faces were probably less than friendly looking. We were confused, then sad, then deep in thought. She was met with blank stares.

What I failed to realize is that, in that moment, what that woman probably needed was genuine understanding and empathy, neither of which I had the mind to offer until she was long gone into the store, probably feeling dumb for blubbering to a couple of youngsters about her daughters death.

As somebody who is naturally very empathic and sympathetic, I'm surprised I didn't react to her with more kindness and compassion. Now that I'm no longer feeling so on the spot, I'm so upset that I didn't even think to offer her a hug.

I have two young daughters. I can very easily imagine the pain that this woman is going through. If I lost either of my kids it would completely wreck me. I spent the rest of that ride grieving alongside that woman that stopped us in the parking lot. Even 2 weeks later, I still haven't been able to forget what she said and the way she looked at us.

I know I will likely never see her again to tell her how much I feel for her, and mourn the loss of her daughter even though I never met her. But I wish I could. I wish I could tell her how much she got me thinking... about how quickly even the best lives can come to an end in the blink of an eye, and how much I appreciate her solemn warning, even though the basis for it cost her so dearly. I plan to be more careful from now on.

You see, after that random encounter at Walmart I looked up recent motorcycle crashes in my area, and I found this woman's daughter. Her name was Rhonda, and she made headlines in my city because she died in a head on motorcycle collision just a mile or so outside the city. She was a mother, a grandmother, and a nurse who worked at a local jail, somebody who was on this planet making other peoples lives better. I can not imagine the pain that this woman has endured due to the loss of her daughter.

To the woman who lost her daughter in a head on motorcycle collision,

I'm sorry that your daughter was taken from you; and I should have given you a hug.