Yesterday afternoon Sue and I spent two hours with Officer Tom Griffin of the Hopkinton Police Department. We talked briefly of visiting the accident scene together, but decided against it. Perhaps later there would be a better time - when there are flowers in full bloom and birds singing from within the green oak leaves overhead.

Tom Griffin was the first police officer on the scene - arriving only a minute or two after Sue and Jenny were struck. Tom is also the principal investigator of the accident for the Hopkinton Police Department.

As I sit here I realize that there is too much to write about. Where do I begin? How much should I say? Jenny died. Sue almost died - isn't that enough?

For the sake of those who must live with this, I will write something:

When Tom arrived on the scene, the driver of the vehicle that slid into Sue and Jenny - an Ashland volunteer fireman and EMT - was working on Sue, who was lying on her left side near the street - badly broken wrists - severe facial injuries - responsive only to her own pain and going into shock.

Tom noted that Jenny and Sue's legs were touching - Jenny's left leg lying across Sue's right calf - and he wonders aloud in our living room six weeks later why such a small detail should feel so important - and why it seems so important now to tell this to Sue. And he concludes this:

Sue and Jen were together, touching, not thrown apart into separate heaps to be labeled "accident victim #1" and "accident victim #2." For everyone on the scene it was "mother and daughter." And that somehow made it deeply personal - something Tom knew Sue would very much appreciate knowing. And she does.

Tom found Jenny face-up against a stone wall - not a fancy wall - but the old fashion New England kind where rocks are piled just to get them out of the way; her blonde hair soaked red in blood; her skin tone ashen. When Tom did his initial assessment of Jenny she was totally unresponsive, had a strong pulse but was barely breathing. He felt for injuries and found a sizeable fracture at the back of her head. Not good.

A friend of Tom's who works as an EMT for Southboro ran from her house just up the street and took over primary care for Sue. Tom and his friend are both top notch EMTs, and they did what they could for Sue and Jenny while they waited for the ambulances.

Over the radio Tom could hear that one of the Hopkinton ambulances was disabled at another accident scene in town and elsewhere a police cruiser crashed. As the ice storm quickly converted Hopkinton into a war zone, help from neighboring Ashland was dispatched.

At some point Tom and his friend exchanged looks - no hope for Jenny - little hope for Sue. As required by law, Tom called in this assessment: "one fatality, probably two..."

For twenty minutes Tom did what he could with Jenny - keep her airway open and breath for her with a special airbag. Her skin color was bad and the blood she vomited was the color which told him that it came from deep internal injuries. To keep Jenny's airway open Tom had no choice but to roll her onto her left side. Cold rain washed her blood the from the dead oak leaves and rocks and soaked it into the ground.

The first ambulance to arrived was from Ashland, driven by the Ashland Fire Chief - Jenny was "packaged" and driven away. Tom's last assessment - a weakening pulse.

Somewhere in Hopkinton, Ashland or Framingham on her way to the hospital in Framingham, Jenny went into cardiac arrest. Someday I'll find out where exactly.

Tom does not remember as much about Sue - his focus was Jenny. But after thinking he might have had two fatalities on his hands, now, six weeks later, he finds it amazing how well Sue is doing.

More was talked about, but suffice to say we picked through the details of the accident one by one looking for an explanation and came to the consensus that given all the things that happened and the exact timing of events, the accident was extremely unlikely and unforeseeable for all parties. If any of the slightest details had been different, Jenny would still be alive and Sue uninjured - or both dead -or any number of potentially horrendous possibilities. The way it happened is the way it happened.

So what do we learn? Is there some way we should modify our lives because of these events? Should we in the future drive past a serious accident scene, instead of offering to help? Should we stay at home and hide in the basement?

I remember the last time I saw Jenny alive - I gave her a hug and kissed her on the top of her head. Minutes later, I looked into her room and as we waved goodnight to each other it was clear to me that I loved her and she loved me.

So here's my own answer: You love your kids and you teach them how to live. And then you hope for the best.

That's all I can take from this accident.