SAN DIEGO — I recently went to the largest writers’ conference in the U.S. and listened to the keynote speech by Susan Wiggs, a well-known author. Mrs. Wiggs inspirational and entertaining theme to the aspiring ink slingers was, “ Ideas for writing can come from many resources.” She made a power point presentation to show some examples. One of the items she flashed on the screen was a very old newspaper story. The article, with an accompanying photograph, was about a case of mistaken identity. Two beautiful, young, airline flight attendants were involved in a car crash. One died instantly, and the other was severely injured. Although Mrs. Wiggs was not aware of it, the image she displayed on the screen was personally directed to me. Upon seeing the story on the screen, a bell went off in my head, and my mind left the ballroom and raced back in time.
Forty-seven years ago, I met a beautiful, twenty-year old flight attendant on an American Airlines airplane. I was a methods engineer for the airline. We hit it off and I invited the cute blonde lass home for dinner to meet my new bride. We had a lovely evening and thought we might see each other again in the future. We promised her she would not have to eat on a card table the next time. A month later, she was involved in a terrible tragedy. She and another flight attendant who worked the same flight were in a limousine heading towards their hotel in downtown San Francisco. There was a terrible, noisy, head-on crash on foggy Highway 101, famous for such disasters, and then a sudden silence. For a split-second there was an incomprehensible numbness, when time stood still and ethereal. The silence continued in and around the accident scene, where two young beautiful women in the prime of their life lay twisted, crumpled and broken amid the twisted metal and shattered glass.
Quickly the eerie silence became a crescendo of shouts and sirens, as rescuers plied the two prone bodies from the once luxurious vehicle. One woman was immediately pronounced dead, and the other, still breathing, was put aboard a helicopter and rushed to the hospital trauma center where her life was saved.
When I first saw the news on TV, and became aware it was our friend who was in the crash, her name was announced as the one who survived. I felt relieved, and yet overcome with grief for the girl who died and the pain and suffering of our friend who survived. She lay in the hospital with her face completely encased in bandages, as was a good portion of her body. She was unconscious, her gathered family anxiously by her side.
Forty-eight hours later, the mother of the deceased young woman, beside herself in grief, went to the funeral home where her daughter lay in a casket. She brought with her a ring she had given her child when she was very young, and wanted to place it on her finger to be buried with her. The funeral attendant opened the casket with great reverence for the solemnity of the moment, and the mother bent over the casket to pay homage and slip the ring on the young inert woman in repose. What happened next is one of those inexplicable events in life. The mother let out a shriek, and screamed, “THAT’S NOT MY DAUGHTER!” The next few moments her mind raced between shock, confusion, and cautious happiness. “Was the other girl in the hospital, swathed in bandages, unrecognizable, her daughter? Was there a horrible mistake of identity in the anxiety and chaos surrounding the crash scene?” A short time later the police and hospital authorities confirmed that was exactly what had happened.
My wife and I were crushed by the seesaw emotional turmoil of the incident and we memorialized the vibrant young woman we had but recently met, who was gone too soon.
I had not thought about that sad event in many, many years until the flashing screen brought back the memory.
I wonder what happened to the girl who survived?, I’ll never know. As a celebration of the sweet girl who died, I hope the girl who survived is having a wonderful and rewarding life; my deceased friend deserves no less.
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Ira Spector is a freelance writer based in San Diego.
Excellent article….Thanks!
Life is unpredictable. Let the people in your life know how much they mean to you, before it is too late.
Very touching story Ira. I am saddened by your friends passing as her life was short lived. I do truly hope the surviving woman lived a full life in honor of her co-worker. Excellent article.