BLESSING THE MOURNERS
Hanns F Skoutajan
The horrific bus- train crash near Fallowfield Station on the outskirts of Ottawa ( Sept. 18) has affected many of the people of Ottawa. Everyday thousands entrust their lives to drivers and their vehicles and occasionally these fail. At Fallowfield it resulted in 6 deaths and numerous injuries. The incident has been described graphically by many of the survivors.
We all have our stories to tell of accidents or close calls. I remember in my latter teens one night returning from the movies in Belleville with a carload of my friends. To the west of the city the county road follows the CNR double track main line and then crosses over it. As I approached the unprotected cross-over a freight train came from the west. I stopped to let it pass and then proceeded over the eastbound tracks when a westbound freight came roaring by. Its approach had been obscured by the the previous train and I was unable to hear its whistle. Remember, this was in the era of those mighty steam engines.
I slammed on my brakes and came to a stop on the eastbound tracks no more than a car’s length from the oncoming train. I was shaken although my passengers were too involved in smooching and thus oblivious to the precariousness of their lives. We continued home safely.
Last Wednesday evening as my spouse and I returned from sitting our granddaughter we recalled the people who at that moment were in deep grief, including the wife of the bus driver. Undoubtedly there were many devastated as well as relieved people in Ottawa that night.
It reminded me of the saying that in the midst of life we are in death. Incidents such as this make us aware of the shortness and uncertainty of human life.
One of the positive things that happen on the occasion of a catastrophe is that people are drawn together. Already bunches of flowers have been placed along the tracks and transitway, many of them by total strangers. Let no one disparage these acts of compassion. They give witness to a human bond that extends beyond kith and kin.
They also say something about the human community in which we are bound to one another . Sometimes it takes tragic events to remind us of our belonging.
As I proceeded over the tracks that night long ago I was deeply shaken . My girlfriend sitting close by my side was conscious of my upset. Did she move a little closer? I could not help but think of the consequences that might have been - the grief, the carnage, the lost lives. I thought of my own parents having to inform my relatives overseas of the tragic event of the loss of their only child who was about to enter university, as was the case of several of the victims of the crash at Fallowfield.
I have often travelled from Ottawa to Toronto by VIA rail and enjoyed the comfort of modern train travel. I recall the train slowing as it approached the suburban station. I noticed the traffic halted along Woodroffe Avenue to let the train pass. Never did I give a thought of what would someday occur at this very place.
The people who gathered at the Nepean Sportsplex throughout the day and into the evening had at least this comfort that they were not alone. “A grief shared is a grief diminished” is a well known saying. When we embrace and mingle our tears we share our common humanity. No, it doesn’t change anything , but yes it does.
One of the duties of a clergyman, a profession which I practiced for over forty years, is to be with people in all sorts of circumstances, happy and sad, in hospital rooms and at gravesides. I soon learned that it wasn’t what I said that counted most but my attendance. This is what is known as the sacrament or gift of the presence that conveys sentiments that words fail to fully express. It is a sacrament that requires no ordination to celebrate. It is the gift of love that travels over unmarked roadways connecting human lives near and far.
May those who mourn be comforted by the love of fellow humans. They are after all the hand of God.
SQ 19/09/2013
