 In December of 2003 our daughter, who was 17 and a senior in high school, died as the result of a car accident. Sarah was a beautiful and talented young woman who was eagerly looking forward to college; she was planning to be a teacher of developmentally delayed preschoolers. She and her boyfriend were on their way to dinner after enjoying a drive to see the Christmas lights; Christmas was Sarah’s favorite holiday. An adult driver sped around stopped cars at a red traffic light and t-boned Sarah’s door at over 60 miles an hour. Sarah died and her boyfriend sustained life-altering injuries. The driver who hit them walked away from the accident without a scratch.
As the weeks and months went by, the accident reconstruction reports confirmed that the driver who hit Sarah and her boyfriend’s vehicle was at fault for the accident. As our family has struggled to deal with Sarah’s death and the impact of losing our daughter and sister, the realization that the accident was the result of the negligence and the inattention of the other driver has added another layer to our emotions.
The road on which the accident happened had, at the time, only been open from the interstate for a few short weeks. Additional reports from road design experts investigating the accident revealed that there were flaws in the design of the road in regard to the exit path from the freeway. The road had been in design plans for numerous years in order to eventually become an extension of the freeway work. There was no signage that indicated it was a surface road once connected to the interstate. The stoplight where the accident occurred was the first one on the road and there were issues surrounding the timing of the lights, lack of turning signals and no red light camera. These factors also contributed to the accident and our daughter’s death.
We never heard a word from the man who was responsible for the death of our daughter. No condolences, no sense of sadness, no “I’m sorry.” We realized that this was probably due, in part, to the legal issues that were being addressed for several months. During that time we saw video clips of his dispositions with attorneys, where he claimed no sense of responsibility; not once have we met him in person.
I have wanted to look into the face of the man who killed my daughter. I have wanted to express my anger. Because he was in a hurry and apparently cared only for his sense of entitlement to drive however he wanted, my child was dead. I wanted him to know the depth of my grief: the dreams that had been shattered, how my heart had been torn to pieces, and how not only my life, but that of my husband, son, Sarah’s boyfriend, and her boyfriend’s family would never, ever, be the same again. That opportunity has not occurred.
In the same way, I have wanted to share my anger and sadness with those who were responsible for the road. Why had the road been opened without the proper safety components in place? Why hadn’t it been monitored when for some time reports had shown that speeding was known to be a primary issue on this road? One news story identified that six days after our daughter’s death police officers wrote 11 speeding citations in one hour's time to drivers going over 75 miles an hour in the 50 mile-an-hour zone.
Most of all, I have been angry with God. I know that God’s presence, comfort and care has always surrounded our family. However, it does not seem fair. After all, at the time of Sarah’s death I had been a professional pastoral caregiver for 25 years. I was the chaplain with expertise in trauma and pediatrics – I have been the one who skillfully and compassionately provided care to others in the worst of experiences.
While I have thought numerous times throughout the years about how I would react if I was in a similar situation, somehow I had always thought that because of my professional practice I would be immune. Surely God would protect my family – so how dare God allow such a thing to happen!
When I cried out to God in the midst of my grief and despair, while I felt a divine loving presence surrounding me, God’s voice was silent. There were no explanations or insights into those first dark weeks and months. Like the man who caused the accident and those responsible for the road, God wasn’t showing up for a face-to-face conversation.
I had often talked about forgiveness with patients and families. The subject of forgiveness has been part of my sermons, as well as the educational events and support groups that I have led. Forgiveness is a central aspect of the Christian faith as well as a part of the practices of other religious traditions.
In the Christian faith we are told to forgive others in order to experience forgiveness ourselves. Little is said about not having the opportunity to resolve the experience by working directly with the one who has hurt us. Nevertheless, through the years I have felt that I had a good grasp of what was required to be a forgiving person and I believe I have practiced forgiveness in the relationships I have experienced.
When I had to face the traumatic death of my beloved daughter, surely I was not expected to forgive those who were responsible, was I? How could I ever begin?
While all the religious traditions speak to forgiveness, those traditions that have shaped my own spiritual and religious life have been the Judeo-Christian, Buddhism and Wicca, a belief system our daughter cherished because of its emphasis on the interconnectedness of the earth and strong women role models.
As theistic religions, both Judaism and Christianity speak of forgiveness in terms of our relationship with the Divine and in terms of our relationships with others.
In the Christian tradition we are reminded of many words Jesus spoke about forgiveness: “Forgive us our sins, for we forgive everyone who does us wrong.” (Luke 11:4). "And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins" (Mark 11:25). "Do not judge and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven" (Luke 6:37). As a response to God's forgiveness of humanity through Jesus Christ, one is to learn how to forgive others.
A Jewish Hasidic parable tells of a King who quarreled with his son. In a fit of rage, the King exiled his son from the Kingdom. Years passed, and the son wandered alone through the world. In time, the King's heart softened, and he sent his ministers to find his son and ask him to return. When they located the young man, he answered them that he could not return to the kingdom--he had been too hurt, and his heart still harbored bitterness. The ministers brought back the sad news to their King. The King told them to bring his son the following message: "Return as far as you can, and I will come the rest of the way to meet you." Without mercy and forgiveness, the Rabbis teach, the world cannot survive.
Buddhism and Wicca, which are non-theistic belief systems, focus on individual and collective experiences of forgiveness.
The book Chop Wood, Carry Water by Rick Fields relates the well-known poignant Tibetan Buddhist story about two Tibetan monks who encounter each other some years after being released from the prison where they were tortured by their captors. "Have you forgiven them?" asks the first. "I will never forgive them! Never!" replies the second. "Well, I guess they still have you in prison, don't they?" In Buddhism, forgiveness is seen as an essential practice in order to prevent harmful thoughts from causing further pain on one’s own mental and spiritual well-being. It lessens the suffering of everyone involved.
Wicca is based upon the idea that all people are growing and learning, all are learning different lessons, all are at different points in their spiritual development, and each one is working at his or her own pace. Wicca tradition also emphasizes that all people are interconnected and interdependent. When someone commits an act that harms another, the balance of the whole community is disturbed. In the teachings of Wicca, as in Buddhism, the focus of forgiveness is best understood within the context of interconnectedness. It requires a measure of self-responsibility, directly addressing the problem and pain, and forgoing the pleasure of vindictiveness.
Forgiveness is a spiritual practice within all religious traditions. It isn’t always simple or done easily. When life has been turned upside down by the actions of another, emotions, including anger, hurt, pain, and confusion are natural. These feelings can be experienced over and over again as one wishes for things to be different. When experiencing traumatic loss of a person or relationship that is precious, there can be a need to make the loss seem rational by assigning blame to someone and acting out of retribution. The dramatic change in one’s life leaves one wondering how to make sense out of what is now a future that wasn’t planned. Forgiveness, then, is a process that involves choices.
The place to begin in my journey of forgiveness has been with God. As I have freely poured out my anger, sadness, and disappointment, with time I have realized that in my personal theology, I could not hold God responsible for the death of my child. I do not believe that God causes accidents, illness, or other events that happen in order to teach a lesson, punish, or for any other reason. The world that God created is imperfect. We are given the opportunity in every moment to make choices, whether for good or for harm. What I know without a doubt is that God was with Sarah at the moment of the accident, just as God had been present in every moment of her earthly life. When the accident happened, God held her close with loving arms, welcoming her, and crying with us in our grief.
I have also realized that God wants to hear my voice of lament and has been listening to every thought and word, accepting them with love. As I have struggled to make sense of the world and to create a new future without my daughter’s physical presence, God’s love and strength has continued to surround and embrace me.
Many years ago when my husband and I were newly married and serving churches in the rural Midwest, there was a car accident that involved several young men from my husband’s congregation. Two of those that were killed had been best friends, as had their families. The tragedy of that accident divided the families with anger and bitterness, which in turn impacted the congregation and the town. As we watched the events that took place and the damage done to the individuals and relationships involved, my husband and I made a covenant that no matter what our lives brought we would work hard to refrain from bitterness.
When Sarah died, we remembered that covenant aloud. We knew that the words we had so easily spoken nearly twenty years earlier would now be put to the test. How would we choose to live in response to our grief and anger in the face of the most terrifying event any parent could experience?
The most difficult piece was in choosing how to deal with the seemingly indifferent attitude of the driver who caused the accident. We have also had to choose how we would interact with the city and the state authorities responsible for the road. How have we balanced our deep sorrow and anger over the circumstances with choosing to live without bitterness? We have discovered that the choice is not an easy one, particularly when tied with traumatic parental grief.
While we will likely never have the resolution we had hoped for in facing those persons responsible for our daughter’s death, we have learned that we can lay that down without regret. We have learned that living in forgiveness does not mean that we have walked away and forgotten all about what happened. Instead we have chosen to channel our energies into making a difference: we have chosen to focus on life and to continue to celebrate the gift of our daughter, who remains a presence in our lives.
Sarah had made the choice to be an organ, tissue, and research donor and we have served as advocates for her passion so that it might be realized. At Sarah’s high school we have established a scholarship fund in her name for students who share Sarah’s aspiration to teach. We have entered into a legal process with the city and state, not for financial compensation, but in order to force changes to the road. And we have chosen to let go of any possibility of ever hearing from or speaking to the man responsible for the accident.
My journey of living in forgiveness is not over. I live moment to moment and breath by breath without my daughter, and some days it feels as though it takes all my energy simply to get to the next moment or breath. There are times and occasions when my grief threatens to overwhelm me, when I long for her presence and my tears can not be stopped. In the same way I must at times choose to forgo anger and bitterness and remind myself to live in forgiveness in the same moment by moment, breath by breath way. My spiritual practices and my relationships keep me centered and focused with acceptance and encouragement to continue the journey. And every step of the way I hear Sarah’s voice whispering in my ear.
Sue Wintz is a hospital chaplain in Phoenix, Arizona, and a mother surviving the loss of her teenage daughter who was killed in an automobile accident in 2003.
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