God has a plan for us all. And once we do what we were placed on this earth to complete, he will call us home to him. All that we do in life, for good or evil, matters and before we leave this earth, all will come back to us.
It was 3pm on a Saturday. The weather was fine---not a cloud in the sky, a slight breeze that rumbled through the leaves. It was a perfect September day. It was one of those days you read about it books--so perfect, there's no way it could be true. And John Greenbrush agreed, as he pulled off Route 130 and went through the tollbooth for the New Jersey turnpike.
Normally he would repel the idea of driving on a day like this. You'd find him out in the woods hiking or fishing by a small pond on crisp autumn days, not stuck behind a steering wheel inhaling exhaust fumes. For the 40 years he had a license, he purposely hid his car keys on days like this, only to be in a panic later when the beautiful day swept the memory of their location from his mind.
But today was a day to celebrate and relax. He had just left a friends barbeque in Jamesburg to head home. He didn't want to leave. In fact you could'nt have paid him to leave. He had just spent the last three hours sitting in a lawn chair, circled by his lifelong friends reminiscing about childhood. Tears were literally rolling down his eyes from laughter. Talk about old games from the block, fights and late night walks in the city. It left a warm feeling in his stomach---one that he wanted to lock away and pull out on rough nights.
Unfortunately, there are only so many hours in the day and family always comes first. He needed to be in his driveway at precisely 4:30 to pick up his wife and head over to their eldest daughter's house for dinner. Anna, their daughter, had worked 4 long years as a nurse and was finally able to move out of her dingy apartment and into her first house. Tonight was their first family dinner around her kitchen table. Tonight was also the night that her longtime boyfriend planned to purpose---at least that's what Mr. Greenbrush knew, since he came to ask permission the week before. He normally wasn't good with secrets and this one was literally killing him since he couldn't tell his wife, who would assuredly tell their daughter.
He was going from one feeling of warm, happiness to another, even bigger happiness. Heaven to heaven. He wouldn't miss either for the world, and now it was on to the next.
The roads were clear on Route 130. Not a soul in sight---which if you've ever drive on 130 you know is a rarity. Merging onto the highway was a breeze. He turned the wheel slowly, easing into the turn like the seasoned driver he was, and merged into traffic. Or the lack there of. Everyone must be out taking advantage of the beautiful day because there were barely a handful of cars on the highway--the closest car was a good 15 feet behind him. Today was just meant to be a stressless day it seemed.
The hardest part of his drive over, Mr. Greenbrush reached for the radio knob, turned it on, and relaxed back into his seat. "Right in time," he said as "Eight Days a Week" by the Beatles streamed through his speakers. He leaned forward towards the stereo and adjusted the volume--the Fab Four deserved a perfect volume. Once found, his eyes adjusted back to the road as he sang the chorus along with the song. The instrumental hit and on instinct he started drumming along on the steering wheel. Instantly he was taken back to the month of drum lessons he begged his mother for when he was 10 years old. He had convinced her he was the next Ringo Starr and it only made sense to pay for the lessons and buy him his own drum set. The kindhearted soul that she was, his mother found the means to pay for both. A month in, the drum instructor realized that Mr Greenbrush had no rhythm and was a lost case. Soon after, the drums were moved to the garage and quickly collected dust, and the little 10 year old found another "passion." But hearing those old songs still brought back the musical urges he once had.
"I really could've done it," he thought, still drumming along.
As the final chorus started up again, he happened to glance in his rear-view mirror. And he had to double take.
The car that was once 15 feet behind him--a blue Dodge truck--was swerving slightly in to the right lane. Just a slight shift of the wheel and then back.
"Must be a kid on a cell phone," he thought to himself. He put his foot down on the gas a little harder, wanting to put more space between the two cars. But he kept his eye on it in the rear-view.
But it didn't stop. And the slight shifting of the wheel became more erratic and deliberate. He started watching the car more than the road in front of him. It couldn't be a drunk driver--it's way too early to have a load on, in his opinion anyway. He slowed his pace and got a better look at the driver. From his distance he saw the driver's arms flailing a bit. Like he was swatting a bee away or trying to protect his face. And the car was starting to accelerate and then stop short.
Something was wrong.
At that moment Mr. Greenbrush had two decisions;
- to speed up. Put his foot firmly on the gas and put as much distance as he could between him and the driver. To get home and forget about all of this.
- Slow down. Try to get as close to the car as he could and make sure everything was okay.
It was the ultimate choice. A test of sorts. To ignore what he was seeing and move on with his business. He didn't even know this guy! Or do the right thing and try and help. Putting himself in the shoes of another and thinking "What if that was me? What if I needed help." It was a decision of conscience, forced on a man just trying to get home.
And Mr. Greenbrush did the only thing his conscience would allow.
He took his foot off the accelerator and eased on to the break. Switching on his turning signal, he merged into the left lane and cautiously inched closer to the jerking vehicle.
Now he was right along side it. The windows were rolled up tight and slightly tinted, completely blocking view to the inside of the vehicle. Mr Greenbrush rolled down his window and leaned out as far as he could. He could see through the tint very strong movements--like the driver's head was thrashing back and forth. He could tell now for sure that this wasn't a teenager or a drunk driver. He pulled as close as he could to the truck. With his one hand still firmly on the wheel, he leaned out of his window as far as he could and tried to get the driver's attention. He waved and yelled and actually leaned so far out of his car that he knocked on the other car window. Minutes passed and there was no reaction from the car. But he kept doing it, praying to God he didn't hit a pot hole or that a car came swerving out of nowhere.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the window slowly rolled down.The driver was elderly. Well over 60 years old, with graying hair and age spots on his hands and face. He was shaking from head to toe and breath was coming hard to him. He was suffering and in definite trouble.
"You need some help sir," Mr. Greenbrush asked, trying to act like nothing was noticeably wrong knowing that most men had pride and didn't like to ask for help.
"I....um....I.....can't feel my hands. My......feet......my feet aren't.....listening to me. My chest....," he said through gasps of air and pointing to his chest. Mr Greenbrush was worried but tried not to show it.
"Can ya cross in front of me into this lane? We'll get ya off the road at least til you get your barrings," he asked, still wanting to put the choice in his hands and keeping the situation calm.
The driver didn't answer but nodded. He was shaking but managed to maneuver his car into the right lane and finally off the interstate onto the emergency pull-off. Mr Greenbrush pulled up behind him and immediately jumped out of his car. Thankfully still no traffic so he was able to safely approach the other car and stand alongside the driver-side.
He opened the car door and found the driver was in worse shape then before. He was clutching his chest for dear life and his breath was coming in slow spurts.
"Sir? Sir? Hi can I check your pulse sir," Mr Greenbrush asked, attempting to get the man's attention. Again, the man nodded and gave his arm to the man. Mr Greenbrush was no doctor but feeling for this man's pulse he could tell it was off the charts. The best thing in this situation, he thought, is to stay calm.
"I didn't catch your name sir," he said.
"Bob. Bob....Granger," the driver answered.
"Well nice to meet you, Bob. I'm John Greenbrush," he said, gently placing the man's arm back in his lap. "Well I'm no doctor but I think we oughta get one out here just in case, what do you think Bob?"
The man didn't hesitate and nodded. "Alright, well I'm going to call for an ambulance and see what they think. Is there anyone else you want me to call?"
"Yes...Yes.....my wife. Please call my wife," Bob replied. He handed his phone to Mr Greenbrush his phone. Taking his own phone he dialed 911. Luckily someone answered right away.
"911 what is your emergency," the operator said.
"Hi I'm with someone who needs some help. I'm on the Jersey turnpike, right before the Jamesburg exit on the side of the road."
"Okay sir. Can you tell me some of the symptoms?"
"Um...pain in his chest. Shortness of breath. I checked his pulse and it's pretty fast."
"Okay. And his name?"
"Bob. Bob Granger."
"Your name?"
"John Greenbrush"
"And your relation to him?"
"None. I was driving in front of him and he was driving kind of erratic so I got him to pull over."
"Alright. Thank you. I'll get someone out to you as soon as possible. It's important to keep him calm and alert."
"Okay. Okay."
"Try to keep him talking, sir."
"Okay. Thank you," he said and closed the phone shut. "Okay Bob, I got someone coming. What is your wife's name under on your contacts?"
"Joyce"
He scrolled through the names and found a Joyce easily. Pushing send, someone immediately answered.
"Joyce? Hi, this is John Greenbrush, I'm on the side of the turnpike with your husband Bob. He's having a little trouble but I've got am ambulance coming so no need to worry."
"What? Is he....is he okay?" she asked, emotion building in her voice.
"Well I'm not sure, but someone is on there way. How about I call you once they get here?"
"Yes. Yes please. Thank you John."
He hung up, finally able to take a breath on his own, then refocused his attention back on Bob.
"So Bob, just talked to your wife. Seems like a fine woman you got there. How long you been married?"
Bob took a few big breaths in, his hands still shaking as he tried to form the words. "Almost.....almost.....50 years. 50 years.......next month."
"My early congratulations then. You'll have many more, I'm sure of it," he replied, thinking in his head that he needed to keep him talking until the paramedics arrived. He asked him anything he could think of--his sports team favorites, the names of his children, where he went to school. He struggled with every reply, but eventually it go easier and his breathing slowed down. 15 minutes passed before he heard the sirens, and turned to see them rolling down the turnpike at double speed, a police officer quick in tow. He smiled and took another big breath.
The ambulance quickly pulled up beside them and the paramedics jumped out and went right to work. Stretcher out, they carefully helped Mr Granger out of his car and in to the ambulance. They checked his vitals, secured an oxygen mask over his face and fastened him to the stretcher. It was so efficient and without a pause--Mr Greenbrush, who had never called or seen paramedics at work, was greatly impressed.
"You were with him when it happened," the officer asked.
"Yes, I saw his car jerking and got him to pull over," he answered.
"Well I can honestly tell you that you saved this man's life. He was in full cardiac arrest and would've been dead in 20 minutes. You also saved the lives of any one he could've hit on the road," the officer told him, clapping him on the back.
"I.....I just did what anyone else would've," Mr Greenbrush answered, feeling a bit stunned.
"Well you did a good thing. And I'm going to make sure this man knows it," the officer concluded as he walked back to the ambulance.
Realizing he still had Mr Granger's phone in his hand, he redialed Joyce. "Yes, Yes. He'll be fine. They're taking him over to Mercy General right now just til he's stable."
"Thank you John. I can't thank you enough for saving my husband's life. I'm just glad he's okay."
"Me too, Joyce. I'm just glad I was here to help. I'll make sure he gets his phone back, alright."
"Thank you. Thank you. Goodbye now."
He snapped the phone shut, a slight smile on his face and walked back over to the ambulance. They were ready to head out and put Mr Granger into the ambulance. Before they lifted him, Mr Greenbrush slipped the cellphone back into Mr Granger's pocket and then took his hand. "It was nice meeting you today, Bob. Have a good anniversary next month. Buy Joyce something special." Unable to reply, Mr Granger gave him a thumbs up and they lifted him into the ambulance.
As they pulled away, Mr Greenbrush stood outside of his car and waited. Taking the moment in for a few minutes. After the flashing lights were well enough away, he climbed into his car and got back onto the road. As he was pulling off his exit, his cellphone rang.
"Daddy, can you stop at Walmart and pick up some paper plates? I completely spaced and forgot them," his daughter Anna asked.
"Sure no problem. I'm heading right by there."
"Thanks Daddy. You're really a life saver."
His smile got broader as he answered, "Love you Anna Banana. See you soon." He hung up the phone and felt warm all over.
A few minutes later, he was walking up and down the aisles of Walmart in search of paper plates. As he searched, his mind went back to Mr Granger. He hoped he made it to the hospital in one piece and Joyce was waiting for him. That really it was lucky. The whole thing. That the streets were clear. That it was a beautiful day and the roads weren't slick. That he left the barbeque when he did. That he decided to take the turnpike home. It was so lucky. Too lucky. Like someone meant it to happen. That someone was watching over the two of them that day.
God was on the New Jersey turnpike that afternoon.
It was quite the mind blowing thought to have in the aisles of Walmart, but it was true.
He found the aisle with the paper products. He turned down the aisle and scanned the shelves for the perfect ones. As he reached for the plates decorated with the tiny red hearts, he felt his knees go weak and his body start to drop. But at the same time, he felt himself being lifted up and out. Out of his body and towards a warm and shining light. He felt light and free. And more than that, he felt complete and loved.
A half hour later, Mr Greenbrush's body was found on the floor of Walmart. The store clerks called 911 but it was too late. Mr Greenbrush was gone. He had a massive heart attack and died before he hit the floor. It was the same paramedics, the same ambulance that had assisted him with Mr Granger only an hour before that answered the call.
He was gone, but as the paramedics lifted him in to the ambulance they couldn't help but see the smile on his face. Like he was happy and went in complete peace.
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