One Moment In Hell And A Lifetime Of Guilt

This post was going to be all about what a great Saturday I had. My trip to the Victory Fall Fest and another fine time at TJ's with a crazy bunch of folks watching the Phils win and drinking some rare beers. Instead it's about man's worst enemy, his guilt and how to deal with it. The night ended just like any other night. I dropped Mr. Steve off at his house and decided to go straight home. I usually go the back way from his house to avoid the traffic on Ridge Pike. And from now on when I hear the phrase "it happened so fast I didn't know what was going on." I won't be saying "yeah right." Out of the corner of my eye I saw something shoot across the road right in front of me and then hit my truck. I barely had time to stop when I saw something move just as fast to the other side of the road and into the night. As someone who has driven a lot of miles in the woods of this area, having something hit my automobile is nothing new. Not by a long shot. Rabbits, possums, raccoons, squirrels, birds and even our old friend Bambi has made contact with me over the years. So I did what I usually do. I started going home. But I started having a small pang of guilt. What if it was something else? What if Steve's dog got lose or something? So I called Steve, figuring he be there laughing at me for my stupid question. When he didn't answer, my stomach was starting to feel like a load of cement was just dropped into it. When I got home I called him back and asked how Jake was. He said he was dead. I said don't kid around, I am serious. He said he wouldn't kid about something like that. I then told him what happen and I said it had to be me. He blamed him self for the accident. Yes, I know the first part of this tragedy wasn't anybodies fault. I just can't see the second part that way. I ran over my friends dog and didn't even take 30 seconds to get my fat ass out of the truck to see what happened. 30 damn seconds just to get out and look around to see what I hit. I left his dog there to die and for him to deal with it. Friends don't do that. They just don't. Everybody has forgiven me, but I can't forgive myself for that part. I never will. I am not looking for a giant pity party or a bunch of e-mails and phone calls of support. Just let me crawl back under my rock for few days and I'll be fine. Guilt is one tough muther. It's a hard one to beat.