A Father’s Letter To His 9 Year Old Daughter: Part I

Dearest Eva,

It is seven hours since your accident and there are tears in my eyes as I write this. Tears of concern and tears of fear.

I was just telling your mother yesterday that regretfully I cannot agree with folks that argue those of us not infected by COVID-19 should not talk about the blessings this shelter in place world has brought us. My argument was that if we as individuals can never see blessings when others are suffering, then no one would ever have cause for celebration, as human suffering is always abundant on our planet. It does not mean we do not pray for the sick and grieve for the dying, but we must acknowledge the newfound blessings that have entered our lives.

I told your mother I have never been happier than during the current shelter in place—and I’m a travel-a-holic. She and I have never had a better exercise routine, and certainly not in a more beautiful location than rural Germany where we are currently stationed with the United States Army. We have never approached a rhythm of getting seven to eight hours of sleep a night prior to this new normal—almost as much as you and your brother and sister! Furthermore, you and your siblings have never been in better shape. You each run 2 miles every morning and stack 2-5 mile hikes on top of that in the afternoons. And when the hike is only 2 miles long, you and your 11-year-old brother and 7-year-old sister exclaim, “is that all?”

But those blessings were shattered today on our five mile hike. On our way through the wooded forest you were asking every five minutes, “Can we walk down in the trench next to the path and explore?”

My response was consistent. “On the way back.”

We reached the turning point 2.5 miles out at the top of a range of hills that afforded a good place to take a picture, even if the sun was too bright.

You asked if you could run down the hill that was before us.

Typing this now, I can’t help but think, what if?

What if I had decided to go back the way we came so the three of you could explore the entire length of the trench I was promising you, rather than the shortened version you would enjoy by shortcutting down this hill?

What if I was more like your mom and used an overabundance of caution when allowing or disallowing your playful activities and had told you not to run down that hill?

As the three of you steamrolled down the hill, Hunter was the first to reach the bottom and collapsed when the incline suddenly flattened out causing the ground to come rushing up to his body.

Then simultaneously. you and Acadia fell to the ground—you at the bottom of the hill and Acadia next to me three quarters of the way up the hill. Acadia tumbled and cried in my peripheral vision, but I knew her fall was nothing compared to what was unfolding for you.

As you approached the bottom of the hill my heart raced as I knew you were going too fast to stop, and after seeing your brother tumble at the bottom of the hill, I knew this was not going to be good.

And it wasn’t.

It happened fast, and I did not see every second—at least I don’t believe I saw every second, but it’s possible my mind is just blocking it out—however, what stands out in my mind is your limp 9-year-old body spinning around completely in the air before landing on your face and chest.

Thinking over these past seven hours, those moments continue to run through my head. I am emotionally exhausted from the day’s events but too panic stricken to sleep.

Because these events continue to run through my head, I can deduce the parts that are either missing or, as I said, simply blocked from memory.

Here is what I think happened.

You were simply unstoppable as you came to the bottom of the hill. It would appear the force of your motion from running down the hill kept you going straight down into the ground at the bottom—essentially running full speed into the ground face first. Compounding this horror is that it flattened out instantly and, like your brother, your legs gave out, unable to fight gravity plus motion from pulling your body down at a 45-degree angle into the ground.

You crashed face first into the ground knocking yourself unconscious. Then because your force was so great, you bounced high enough in the air—off your face—to complete one entire rotation of your body like a rag doll. I then watched your body come crashing down, face and chest first onto the ground.

It looked like one of those B-rated movies where they intentionally use silly looking dummy bodies that get thrown in the air after an explosion.

It was slow motion.

It was painful.

It still makes me tear up as I write this knowing how you, my precious little Eva, had her body so violently hurt. To not know at that moment how badly you were hurt continues to make my heart race and fear enter my mind as I recall the events.

I immediately screamed out your name.

You did not answer.

You did not move.

It took 10-15 seconds to reach you running as fast as I could.

A lifetime.

Author’s note: Go here to read Part II. This story has a positive conclusion in the second and final part of this story.)