Last Rites

The Belmont Club refers to a blog called The Ambulance Driver, which recalls the moments, over seven years, when the blogger had to tell anxious loved ones the person he was crouched over was dead; beyond his help. There were men gone from old age, young blond accident victims, the middle-aged expired from a heart attack, daredevil young men on their shattered motorcycles. And the anxious survivors "... and then I say The Words. 'I'm afraid she's dead.' "

Wretchard observes:

As children we know one sort of God, the kind who loves us like our parents. He is the God who we spoke to just as if He was in the next room in the moments before we went to sleep. And as we grow up, the God of our childhood slips away forgotten, but He is replaced, if we are in Grace, by one we can speak to as adults. He never truly goes away, but as we are adults, leaves us mostly on our own. The God of adulthood comes seldom and usually in moments of great happiness and loss. There finally is the Lord who speaks to us when we are old, when we awake bewildered to watery brightness of each new day, when we know we are close to leaving the flowers and yet are not wholly despairing of meeting them again.

The Ambulance Driver captures the most secret moments of society. The ones most hidden from view.

The comments section has some interesting commentary, as well.