Today I saw a dead body lying in the slow lane of the freeway. I saw it while I was driving towards it in my car with my wife, mother, and daughter at 70 miles per hour. I saw it shortly before I swerved so I wouldn’t hit it.

Ever since I was a little child, the last Sunday in July has meant only one thing to me. That’s always been the day I take the annual trek to the small community of Courtland to enjoy the “Pear Fair.” It’s a simple event, drawing about 7,000 people looking to sample the sweet fruit and its many variations in treat form. This year was to be the first time I took my baby daughter to her first Pear Fair. I knew that I would never forget it. I didn’t have any idea why.

The day was better than advertised. The temperature was a good ten degrees lower than the weatherman thought it would be a few days ago. My three-month-old was in a terrific mood. My sister and her boyfriend met us there for a couple of hours of good old American family fun, and with plans to hit up my cousins daughter’s birthday party, we decided to leave just before 2 o’clock. My wife’s best friend’s family, who had met us there as well, left just ahead of us.

Those who have driven through the Delta know that there are two ways back into Sacramento from Courtland; Interstate 5 Northbound, and the river road. My wife’s friend was driving in front of us until for whatever reason, in the small town of Hood, they decided not to take the faster way (I-5) like we were; they turned around to take the scenic route, the river road. I’m eternally grateful that they did.

As my family and I were driving back into Sacramento, near the Laguna Boulevard overpass, things seems typical and we were all engaged in the normal chit-chat that one would expect after a fun outing at a country fair when I noticed that the cars ahead of us were rapidly hitting their breaks and veering away from the #1 lane. At first I thought maybe we were approaching a wall of slow traffic or perhaps some sort of traffic accident until I noticed a large object on the road ahead.

Within seconds of seeing the unimaginable sight I knew without a doubt that I was looking at a motionless human being. I yelled at my loved ones to avert their eyes but their natural curiosity got the best of them and they too became witness to the gruesome scene. All at once I had to change lanes while making sure that doing so wouldn’t cause an accident while debating whether or not to stop and if I did would that put my family in harm’s way. In the end I did not stop since I felt enough other people were stopping and I couldn’t place my daughter in such a dangerous situation of the side of the road.

Looking back in my rearview mirror, I saw a large tractor-trailer parked on the overpass where I knew there shouldn’t be one. My instincts immediately said “suicide”, though that logic didn’t end the queries that began to swirl in my head.

“What drives a man to do such a thing?”

“I wonder if his problems would have seemed so unbearable tomorrow.”

“What if our friend had decided to take the freeway?”

“What if we/someone else would have hit the body?”

“How inconsiderate of that person.”

For the rest of my life, I will remember the time I took my infant daughter to her first Pear Fair. It will always be marred with the image of a dead body that hit the hard pavement after jumping from an overpass to the freeway below. The unmistakable mass of flesh and bone that seconds earlier was a living, breathing human being. The stark opposites of a pleasant day and the reasons which cause a person to take their own life. A real reminder that tomorrow is promised to no one and that we are fragile creatures who inhabit this mortal existence for the briefest of instances.

Hours later, I still haven’t seen this incident pop up on any of the local media websites, and the CHP incident feed only mentioned for a short while that a man had committed suicide off the overpass, and that the lanes were partly blocked for a half an hour, and that afterwards traffic was moving normally again. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I may have never known that a life ended on that road today. But I did see it, and I feel changed by it, a little more appreciative to be surrounded by people who love me, who I love back, and that I know I am not alone and that I can always count on my family to be there when I need them. I wish anyone else who considers harming themselves could only know the love I’ve been blessed enough to enjoy so that they could find the strength to ask for help when they feel helpless. No one is an island to themselves. We are all on this world together, and we have to be able to help one another overcome our difficulties if we’re ever to achieve the heights of human potential.