blog.chron.com http://blog.chron.com/thestraightpath/2008/08/you-dont-leave-a-child/

You don’t leave a child | The Straight PathIt took me a couple days to write about this. Unfortunately in the intervening time a similar incidentoccurred. There is a web site devoted to prevention of car-related child injuries and deaths:http://www.kidsandcars.org/ . I urge anyone who is responsible for driving a child anywhere to dosomething – anything – to remind yourself of the child in your back seat.

This happened on an otherwise banal afternoon two days ago. I was in my bookstore, in a shopping centeron NASA Road 1 in Webster, vacuuming. I unplugged the machine to move to the next room and heardscreaming. You know how sometimes when kids play they scream so loud you think someone’s hurt? Youstop to listen until you’re sure all is well. This was not play. It was a woman’s hysterical scream.

I ran outside and saw a car stopped sideways in the parking lot a few stores down from mine. The passengerside doors were open. A woman was kneeling on the ground next to the rear passenger door, screaming – aheartwrenching, hysterical sound. She beat her fists on her folded legs and cried out. A man was with her,his hand on her shoulder. As I ran toward them he put a hand up and indicated to me to stop. Do you needhelp, I said? He held up his hand to keep me away and said no. That didn’t make sense; he clearly neededhelp. Do you need me to call 911? He waved towards the row of buildings and said someone was calling. Iran into the shop he pointed to and found the owner on the phone with 911, reporting a child unconscious ina car.

Oddly enough, I don’t remember who told me that the hysterical woman had just gotten in her car anddiscovered she had forgotten to take the child to day care, had left him in the car all day, and that the childwas dead.

I left the store. I had a glimpse of the child, who was strapped into a car seat. A leg. An arm. A slumped head.

This didn’t make sense either. It’s a stupid mistake to leave a gallon of milk or a package of meat in a hot carall day. You don’t leave a child. You don’t leave a child. You don’t leave a child.

The ambulances and police came very quickly. Someone helped the woman up and led her away from thecar and sat her on the curb in front of the store. The emergency personnel rushed to the open rearpassenger door, then slowly lifted their heads out of the car. The woman sat sobbing on the curb with anemergency worker next to her.

I’ve never been able to stomach standing by and watching others in agony. I walked over and sat down nextto her and patted her back, telling her it would be okay, which of course we both knew was an utter lie. It’samazing, however, what power a simple gesture has. Maybe it’s so comforting because it’s reminiscent of ourmothers patting us on the back. Fifteen or so years ago there was a fire in an apartment building down thestreet from me. Residents and neighbors stood outside watching the firemen mop up, and one woman stoodalone on the sidewalk sobbing. I went to her and asked what was wrong. She said, “My cats were in there. Mycats were in there.” I patted her on the back too. All that crowd of people stood there and ignored her sobs. Ican’t stomach that. It takes so little to soothe.

I wasn’t sure what to say to the woman in the parking lot. I told her to just pray. Do you believe in God? I said.Just pray. Then I felt awkward, as though I was inappropriately proselytizing at a completely inappropriatemoment. That wasn’t my intention, but it felt weird, so I returned to just saying it will be okay, it will be okay.After a few minutes she was taken inside the shop where she works and I went back to my store.

And then, alone, I cried. And then it hit me that I had been going about the day tending to small things. Mycable was installed. I made phone calls. I fussed repeatedly over displays and fixtures, moving tables, movingbooks, shaking my head, frustrated at not getting the look right. The whole time a child was dying just yardsfrom me.

And in the days since this happened, my guilt over that has grown. Granted, there was no reason for me togo to the section of the parking lot where the car was parked. But if only…

As a Muslim, I believe that God is all merciful. Dozens of times a day, both during formal prayer and as I goabout my daily life, I call Him by that attribute: the most merciful. I know He will have mercy on the woman wholeft the child in the car. He will have mercy on the child’s family and others who loved him. He will have mercyon those of us who wish we could have seen, known, and helped. And I am 100% sure that He has had

mercy on the child, who is now enjoying paradise.