When I was born my father told me that I needed to pay attention and listen more. He was right because as I grew up I was constantly talking and always walking into things as I wasn’t watching where I was going.
Then one day I walked into the road and was hit by a car that was coming towards me. I remember it hitting me, but after that it is all a blur. I was taken to hospital where they didn’t give out much hope for me. I was here for weeks and weeks and then I opened my eyes. I had been in a coma. All the people around my bed started to cry and I also cried. They called the doctor and he came to check me over. He said that it was a miracle and that someone was looking after me from above. I’m not a religious man, but when he said that I started to have a change of heart.
My life up until now has been all about me. I did love my family but there was a part of me that felt detached from them all. As I recovered in the hospital I was going along the corridor from the ward and saw a little chapel. I hadn’t been in before, but something inside me made me walk towards it and then go in. I wasn’t sure what I was suppose to do, so I just copied what I had seen on telly. I knelt down and placed my hands in a prayer position just like the statues in here. I gave thanks and just sat there for a while. I thought how lucky I was to have survived this awful experience.
I was told that the driver was not so lucky and had died on impact. The car hit a large building. Just as I sat here a man came and sat down next to me. He smiled and spoke to me. We both said hello to each other. I told him nervously that I hadn’t been in here before, but came, as I had been in an accident and was lucky to be alive. As I said that he began to cry and then told me that he had just lost his son. He was driving along in his car and the tyre burst. The car went out of control and hit a man that was crossing the road, my son died and the man was in a critical way. On hearing this I was overwhelmed and felt sick and nervous. The man was the father of the man who had hit me. I bravely told the man who I was. He said I know you don’t believe in God, but God has brought us both here today to meet each other. In his plan he wanted you and I to talk and help each other through our shared experience. I am so sorry about what happened to you. I told the man that he had nothing to be sorry for and that it was an accident and that I was sorry that he had lost his son. I gave him a hug and told him it was okay. Love and forgiveness was shared by both of us. As the man stood up he looked at me and told me to hold onto my new faith, that I have been given a second chance in life. We said our goodbyes and I went back to the ward.
Months and months down the line, I had a change of job and now I was helping families who has lost loved ones. I work as a support worker in the same hospital that I had come to when I had my accident. Life has so much more meaning to me now. I even met my wife here and we have two beautiful children, a girl and boy. When the boy was born we didn’t know what to call him, so I contacted the old gentleman, as we had been in contact still all these years. I told him about my boy and asked if he would mind if we called him David Paul after his own child. He said yes and was over the moon. We had a baptism and himself and his wife came to the service. As we stood there I felt as if David Paul senior was with us celebrating this moment.
I am so grateful for my life and everyone in it.
