I found out through the accident report that I was able to query that emergency medical services did attempt to work on my oldest son’s “father” from scene all the way to the hospital. Although they were never able to resuscitate him and considered him to die on scene, as he did, I am glad that they tried to work on him. Family members of his and friends wanted him to turn his life around at some point, especially for my son (and I say “my” where I did because the last time that he saw my son was when he was four months old with him being seventeen years old now). I never thought he would. The man who raised him as stepfather for almost his entire childhood never thought he would, and I can see why he would think that. But he didn’t deserve to die a brutal, pulverizing death being hit so hard by a motor vehicle that he was thrown the rest of the way across the road and died within seconds of impact. I never expected to have to read his obituary at age thirty-seven and instantaneously realize that I was now older than him. I will always be older than him.

The time it took to realize that I was older than him was probably the seconds he lived past impact…

Maybe one.

Probably none.