The accident changed our lives. Jitish’s, mine, our families, and the life of the nineteen year old. For the first three weeks, I didn’t care enough to find out who hit us. The ‘who’ didn’t matter to me. Only Jitish mattered. I decided ignorance was the best route at that point. It was easy to ignore in the midst of Jitish fighting for his life.

Our families were livid. Still are. They gave me time to grieve though. They kept me safe from finding out that a nineteen year old bartender/student played a pivotal role in deciding how our lives would play out.

After about three weeks, when the reality of the situation slowly creeped up on me, they told me who she was. And I don’t think I was angry, mad or frustrated. It still didn’t matter. Because Jitish was still fighting. We were still in the Neuro ICU unit, at high risk!

Forty one days in the Neuro ICU, twenty eight days at an LTAC and another thirty days at Rehab later, I found my anger and frustration.

With every visit from family, friends and colleagues, the story of our accident was recounted. And continues to be recounted. There were a lot of questions. What happened? When did it happen? Were we speeding? Where were we? Were we on a freeway? Why did we go out? Did we have helmets on? How did I not hurt my head too, if my helmet flew as well? Why did we buy a motorcycle? Good questions. Questions I find asking myself.

Who was the person who hit us? That was one question I didn’t care to ask. When people found out who, there were mixed reactions. Irresponsible young kids. Maybe she was on facebook browsing. Or taking a Selfie. Or just being careless. Or in a rush.

I didn’t really feel anything toward her. Not anger. Not sympathy.  Not anything. Some felt sorry for her; A nineteen year old facing this situation, at such a young age.

But today, while I am looking at my once strong guy trying to move his leg in an attempt to walk, I feel anger. We saw him fight for his life. Try to breathe. Learn to swallow water. I see him trying to talk and tell us something. But it comes out all wrong. I see him getting frustrated and exhausted. My Jitish. Who only helped others and was full of life. He was driven.

I don’t feel sorry for her. I just hope she doesn’t repeat this big mistake. But I don’t feel sorry for her being nineteen. Jitish and I just turned 30. We have our entire life ahead of us. It doesn’t make any difference to justice if the person was 19 or 90 years old. She did wrong. And it’s not her who has to live with it. It’s us, Jitish and I who face an unpredicatable future.

Anger doesn’t help. It really doesn’t. But you would be foolish to think that you can avoid anger when you are in this predicament. Channel your anger. Use it to push yourself toward the future you had planned. Make it right. Channel the anger to show the world that ‘Come what may, We will carpe that $#@%^&* diem’!