Humboldt tragedy a reminder to hug loved ones close when life hurts
Wednesday, April 11, 2018
BRUCE HALLIHAN
Whenever I have trouble sleeping, I count backwards from 99 down to 1. After three or four repetitions, I'm usually out like a light.
Usually.
I first heard about the Humboldt Broncos tragic bus crash late Friday night, squinted at my cellphone screen at 5 a.m. to check for updates on social media. I felt a burst of empathy one post after another as the magnitude of the accident hit me and helplessness set in.
I haven't had a sound sleep since .. 16 of the 29 passengers have now died and three others remain in critical condition.
I thought about the first responders arriving at the scene of what's been described as "a valley of death." I flashed back to when I was in high school and my father, who shared soot and sweat with fellow firefighters for 35 years, had to use the Jaws of Life to try to pry my friend free from a wrecked car. As he was dying, Eddie clutched my father's arm and said, "Ivan, tell Bruce he's a good guy."
I thought about Brendon Oreto, a promising hockey player who was killed in a car accident in 1998, returning from a Division 1 prep school in Massachusetts. He was 19, a bright, outgoing young man we frequently featured in these pages. I remember a year or so later, his father Tony coming into the office and, with sadness in his eyes, saying "Do you still have any of those recordings of the interviews you did with Brendon? I'd just like to hear his voice again."
I thought about the 10th anniversary of Bathurst's 'Boys in Red' -- seven players and the coach's wife killed when the team van collided with a tractor-trailer - and Bradd Arseneau leading the Phantoms to a provincial title 13 months after the tragedy. "I could only pick one number," said Arseneau, who wore number 7, "so I picked this one for all of them."
I thought about my first cousin Lynn, whose 14-year-old daughter died on Mother's Day 2008 from injuries suffered in a car crash about 24 hours earlier. After the sorrowful funeral, I'll never forget Lynn grabbing our daughter Lauren, then 13, by the shoulders and urging her "Tell your parents you love them everyday because Carlee can't tell me that anymore."
I thought about Lauren's boyfriend, Mackenzie Brown, who was 16 years old - the same age as the youngest Bronco killed - when he travelled with the Woodstock Slammers to Humboldt to play for the 2012 RBC national junior A hockey championship. Humboldt is about three times bigger than Perth-Andover, but he spoke of the similarities - warm, friendly, helpful people - between the small Saskatchewan town and the tiny New Brunswick village.
Mackenzie went on to become the Slammers captain, travelled thousands of more miles, made hundreds of friends through hockey and captured my daughter's heart. How different would her life be if tragedy befell him?
I thought about all the friendships Ronda and I made through hockey - from atom on up - through son Aiden, now 23. His confidence soared that one season with the midget minor Caps when coaches Dax MacLean and Jeff Pettigrew took a chance on him.
I thought about the note I sent Dax last year when he lost his father, Paul, and the note he sent back when I told him my dad was dealing with some health issues. It read, in part: "He’s a Miramichier ... he’s tough, brave and strong. He’ll come out of this good as new!"
I thought about another one of Aiden's former coaches, Doug Marion, when his vibrant wife Debbie was killed in a snowmobile accident last winter. At the funeral home, I hugged his two kids as tight as I'd hug my own because our family felt connected to their family - through hockey.
I thought - and still think daily - about the billets of the Broncos and the mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters of those fallen boys. The lives of so many changed in seconds. How long before they can pretend they're functional, before some semblance of peace washes over them? Months? Years? Ever?
I thought about all the touching tributes I've watched and read and heard and thought Dave Elkjar, a fellow sports card collector from Penticton, B.C., articulated so well what so many people are feeling:
Dave wrote: "As a parent, you hold your newborn like the gift they are. As they grow, you hug them close when life hurts. You clean and bandage their cuts. Your heart swells with pride as you watch them play the sport they love. You share their dreams and hopes. But nothing you do can prepare you or them for a tragic event like this. As a country and hockey community, our hearts, thoughts and prayers go out to the families impacted by this tragedy.
"Humboldt Strong."
Thoughts and prayers .
So awesome to see everyone band together and help lend their financial support here. 
