meeting the man who killed him

Tonight, I met the man who killed S.  I shook his hand.  I looked him in the eyes and thanked him for meeting with me.  I sat across the table from him and listened to his story.  I asked him questions.  I showed him pictures.  I looked him in the eyes and told him I wasn't mad at him.  I offered him forgiveness.

I wanted to meet the man who killed S a long time ago.  I tried to call him a few weeks after S died, but the phone number on the police report was not a good one.  I had questions for him and I wanted them answered.  I told the DA I wanted to meet with him.  I wanted that to be part of his plea agreement.

So, tonight, S's best friend M and I went to the man's attorney's office and talked with him.  I was really nervous, but I came armed with a list of questions for him and some pictures of S.  We walked in and met and shook hands with the man and his son.  It was very natural.  Then we sat down and the attorneys (ours and his) said that they were basically going to sit quietly and just let us talk.

I started by telling him that I am not mad at him.  I told him I have never been mad at him.  I told him I knew it was an accident.  He looked relieved when I said that to him.  He apologized for killing my husband.  He said it was an accident.  He told me he thinks about S every morning when he wakes up and every night before he goes to bed.  I am sure I looked relieved when he said that.

He seems like a decent man.  He seems like a good person.  He seemed honestly sorry about what happened.  He told me he wishes he could switch places with S.  I honestly believe him.

I had a few questions I really wanted answers to.  I had one question I wanted a particular answer to.

I wanted to know when he saw S.  He didn't until he hit.  S hit the man's van right on the front tire.  The van was totalled.  He wasn't sure how he fell off the bike, but he said that S was laying on his back and the bike was next to him.  He said his 13 year old grandson was in the front seat and screamed at him to stop, but it was too late.

I asked him if he went to S.  If he tried to comfort him.  If he told him help was coming.  If he did anything.  I wanted so badly for him to tell me that he ran to S.  That he told him he was sorry.  That he tried to offer him some comfort.

But he didn't.  He said he looked from a distance to make sure he was breathing (which he was) because he said that was the most important thing to him.  He said no one went to him until the emergency crew got there.  I wanted so badly for him to tell me that S wasn't alone.  I had hoped for so long that he wasn't alone in those moments.  I had prayed that he wasn't alone.  But he was.  That makes my heart hurt for him so much more.  No one was there with him.  No one. (though the ADA later told me that he is fairly sure someone who called 911 went to S).

When the man told me that I wanted to scream at him.  I wanted to yell at him.  I wanted to ask him why.  But I didn't.  I couldn't.

Why?  Because I have learned a lot over the last 7 months.  I have learned not to judge people so quickly.  I have learned that you really don't know what you would do in any given situation unless you have lived it and even then, you don't know for sure because you haven't lived it as that person.  As much as I wanted him to tell me that he ran to S, I knew I couldn't judge him for not going to him.  That wouldn't be fair.

I feel bad for him.  I think both sides of the table suck in the situation.  I don't envy him.

I knew that meeting him and talking with him wouldn't bring S back.  I knew that it wouldn't make losing him any easier.  I knew that it would be hard, but I hoped that I would feel a peace when I left.  I didn't cry the whole time we were in the room with him.  I wanted to and I had to fight back tears a few times, especially when I was showing him pictures of S and when he was describing what S looked like laying in the street.  I didn't cry in front of him, but as soon as I left the room, standing in the lobby of the lawyer's office, I broke down.  It was like all of the emotions of the day filled me and I couldn't hold it in anymore.

I don't like to cry anymore.  I used to be a crier, but now, since S died, I don't like to cry.  But I cried.  S's friend  held me and I cried on his chest.  The ADA told me I was strong.  I felt better after crying for a few minutes, but I didn't feel peace.

In the car on the way home, I told S's friend that I didn't feel at peace at all.  Not even a little.  I was pretty disappointed in all of it.  It wasn't anyone's fault really that I was disappointed, but I just wanted to badly for him to answer my questions the way I wanted them answered.  I think that would have given me that peace.  But that wasn't the case.

Still, I am glad I met with him.  I am glad I have the answers, even if they aren't the ones I wanted to hear.  I think the meeting brought him some peace as well.  He said he worried that I was mad at him or that I was going to sue him.  I hope knows that I am not helps him to sleep a little easier tonight.

His wife passed away in 2004.  He knows what it is to lose a spouse.  I know he is sorry and for that I am thankful.