The Man on the Hill

I took my sons snowboarding at Bromont today. The snow was amazing and though it was quite chilly, it wasn't freezing! Bundled up quite nicely in several layers, we were having a great time, until one of my sons didn't quite make it to the bottom of the hill.

Turns out he twisted his knee slightly during a little fall, but erring on the side of caution, the snow patrol took him down the rest of the slope. I went to pick up the car on the other side of the mountain to meet them.

When I reached the parking lot, an ambulance passed me, lights flashing, sirens howling. I thought for a second, "No, this can't be ... it's just a twisted knee - I hope it's not broken!"

Worried, I quickly parked the car and made my way to the first aid cabin. I peered inside and saw a man lying on a table. He was urgently being administered CPR. His face was all bloody. I suddenly realised what was happening. Great sadness overwhelmed me and I felt the urge to cry.

Just then, a woman from the snow patrol approached me and told me my son had been moved to another area, for obvious reasons. My son was oblivious to what was happening in the cabin just beside him, feeling better having had his knee taken care of. My other son made mention of hearing on the walkie-talkies that a man was unconscious.

As we were getting into the car, a man on a stretcher was being taken out of the first aid cabin. A yellow blanket covered his face and body. His red ski boots peered out from the other end. The ambulance drove off, no flashing lights, no wailing siren ... and I knew he had not made it.

Incidents like this add a solemn perspective to life.