Ready or Not, Here It Comes

"David, are you ready?"

It was a snowy night in Tehachapi. I’d just clocked out from my new job in prison rehabilitation—a job I love—and was heading home, where I’d be living alone for the first time in eight years.

Life was good.

And here I was about to smash into a massive F2500 truck.

It felt like Life—or the universe—was actually asking me:

“David, if this is it, are you ready?”

Time stood still as my car hurtled toward its destined disaster. Before impact, I had what felt like an eternity to contemplate the question.

I’d heard that people with near-death experiences often have time to review their lives. I never expected to verify that truth so soon.

Damn.

I began an internal audit:

• I had just moved for a new job in prison rehabilitation—a job I love that didn’t exist two weeks ago. Check.

• I’d left my former dream sales job two years ago to wildly pursue writing poetry. Hell yes! Check, check!

• I’d just seen my mom earlier that day, sharing a sincere hug after years of working hard to improve our relationship. Damn, that’s as good a goodbye as I could have hoped for. Check.

Suddenly, so many life moments flashed before me:

Volunteering at summer camps. Breakfast with my host mom in the Peace Corps. Sitting with my grandpa before he died. Writing poems in Morocco. Becoming a death doula. It all makes sense now, I thought.

I snapped back to the truck I was about to run into.

"Fuck it. Yes! I’m as ready as I’ll ever be."

I was so present that the collision felt like a speed bump.

Thankfully, I was fine.

The other driver, shocked and in his first-ever accident, barely dented his truck while my Subaru Legacy was totaled.

Here’s the crazy part: I was in between car insurance providers, in a two-week mandatory waiting period for my new policy. Had the driver chosen to do a hit and run, I’d have been screwed. But I had complete irrational trust that Life would take care of me. Just as it had the last 18 months since leaving my job.

The driver, in shock, was older and it was his first collision ever. After helping him calm down, we exchanged information. He even offered me a ride home, an hour away, despite it being so cold and late.

I took him up on the offer. I had just paid the deposit and first month’s rent after moving into my new place that day for this job. After 18 months of “funemployment,” I didn’t even have enough cash for an Uber.

Here’s where Life gave me a wink: The man was preparing for his brother’s funeral the next day. What were the chances that he’d have a death doula in his car for an hour-long ride? Neither of us could believe it. I couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief at the whole thing when I got home.

When I tried filing the insurance claim the next day, I learned he had already filed one against himself.

I’d never felt so much gratitude.

The moment I surrendered the most control turned out to be the moment I was most taken care of.

If you’d like to dive deeper into this story and my reflections on living a full year as if it were my last (inspired by Stephen Levine’s A Year to Live), you can check out this podcast episode below that I was a guest on shortly after finishing this journey.