The phrase keeps repeating itself in my head; “I should be dead..”, along with visions of the crash, me sitting there, almost as if safely cocooned in the driver seat surrounded by chaos.
Throughout the next day moments in between the beginning of the crash and the point at which it all became a deathly silence flash in my mind, the loud bangs as the car hit pole and concrete , dust and debris flying all around me.
It’s hard to explain how I’m still here, unhurt and still in mild shock.
How I got out of that wreckage without much of a struggle.
Most people will say it is God and I am in no position to offer objective explanations of me surviving such an accident; watching helplessly as the vehicle you were driving loses control and spins across two lanes and over a eight foot wide gutter before stopping, waiting to burst into flames just minutes after you step out.
I stood there, in the rain, not bothered if I had sustained any injuries, watching the tongues of fire consume the wreckage, not realising that if things had happened differently, I would have been in that wreckage.
I should be dead.
Yet here I am, without a single scratch, not even a slight complaint that a little pain lingeres. I walked away from that burning heap feeling mostly guilty, feeling I should have been more careful driving in such poor weather. The idea that I am by far luckier than most has only begun to sink in.