Everything Was Okay
It was a freezing Valentine’s night. The rain mist stung my face, and the dirt road clung to my skin, making everything feel raw and real. The sound of our side-by-side engines echoed softly through the woods, a rhythm that marked our adventure. There were five of us three riding side by side, with me bringing up the rear as the only guy in the group. One by one, they sped off ahead, leaving me alone in the quiet darkness.
I tried to see through the rain and dirt, but all I could make out were fading taillights disappearing into the night. Then everything went still just a dark road stretched out before me. I kept going until I reached the accident: my cousin and her friend, flipped over in a puddle of blood slowly forming beneath them. My heart pounded as I rushed toward them, trembling with fear, hearing their screams grow louder even as the night seemed to hush around us.
In that moment, everything became painfully real. My vision blurred, and my hands were numb from the cold yet they trembled from distress. I wanted to freeze, to look away, but instinct took over. I steadied myself, assessed the scene, and carried my cousin to the side-by-side, avoiding her limp limb. Racing back to the house it felt like time was slipping away beneath me. The world blurred into rain, mud, and thoughts.
When the pickup truck finally sped off toward the hospital, I was left standing in the dark, surrounded by the echoes of what had just happened. It felt like I was just dirt settling in water, everything finally slowing down, and at last, I understood.
(Commentary: Even though my cousin survived, I was left with an overwhelming sense of guilt. I kept thinking I could have done more, been faster, stronger, calmer. The fact that everyone lived should have brought peace, but for a long time, it didn’t.)
The Days After
When I returned three weeks later to clean the mud and blood from my side-by-side, it felt like scrubbing away a memory that didn’t want to fade. For days after the accident, the smell of wet mud and the sting of winter air lingered in my senses, as if the night refused to let me move on. Every small reminder mud on my boots, the sound of rain, or headlights cutting through the dark brought the moment crashing back in fragments I couldn’t escape.
(Commentary: Trauma doesn’t always show up as panic or tears. Sometimes it comes in the quiet moments, the lingering memories, the feeling that you should have done more even when everyone survived.)
Reflection: The Freeze
In the days following the accident, Houston was hit with a massive freeze. The Arctic cold front made its way to southeast Texas on February 14. This day was the turning point where the front became a historic winter event (“The Great Texas Freeze: February 11–20, 2021,” NCEI). Power lines failed, pipes burst, and roads turned to sheets of ice. The Great Freeze lasted 8 days, 23 hours, and 23 minutes, with the last Hard Freeze Warning expiring on Saturday, February 20th at 9 a.m. (NCEI).
We lost power for five days, and I sat alone in my dark room, surrounded by silence. The cold seeped through the walls and into my chest, mirroring the chill I felt inside. I barely spoke to anyone. The world outside was frozen solid, and so was I, stuck replaying the same night over and over in my head.
Then came the news I wasn’t ready to hear: the doctors had done everything they could, but it wasn’t enough. Her arm had to be amputated. A sharp pain filled my chest as guilt took over. Someone I saw as a sister was going to face this life-altering reality, and I couldn’t shake the thought that it might be my fault. Was I not fast enough? Could I have done something, anything different?
As I later learned, this feeling has a name: survivor’s guilt. It’s common after traumatic events, especially when you walk away physically unharmed while someone you love doesn’t. “Your guilt could relate simply to your own survival, but you might also spend a lot of time thinking about what you might have done differently or how you could have helped others — even when you couldn’t have taken any specific action to change the outcome” (“How to Cope with Survivor Guilt, Because Survival Is No Reason to Feel Guilty,” Healthline). Those words resonated deeply, because they captured exactly what I felt—this aching belief that I should have done more, even though I know I did everything I could.
(Commentary: Learning about survivor’s guilt gave me a new understanding of something I didn’t understand. It didn’t erase the pain, but it helped me realize I wasn’t alone in feeling it Yet I knew it would take time.)
Silence and Faith
For weeks, I carried that weight quietly. I felt weak, helpless, and distant from the world. The silence of the freeze mirrored the silence inside me. During those long, cold nights under the blankets, I questioned everything—even my faith. I had prayed and pleaded with God to make everything okay, and when it wasn’t I felt betrayed not just by fate, but by myself.
The line that has stayed with me the most is: “Racing back to the house, I felt like time was slipping away beneath me.” That moment captured everything panic, desperation, and the helplessness of realizing that life can change in seconds, no matter how tightly you hold on.
Healing
Years have passed, but the memory still aches when I think about it. Yet with time, that pain has softened into reflection. My cousin has gone on to live a life full of strength and success. She went back to school, earned her bachelor’s degree, got married, and just recently, on October 16th, 2025, gave birth to her first child. Seeing her hold that baby, a symbol of new life and hope, brought me peace I didn’t know I needed.
I’ve learned that guilt, like winter, eventually thaws. As Healthline reminds readers, “Feelings of guilt, along with any other distress you might experience after a traumatic event, often pass with time” (“How to Cope with Survivor Guilt, Because Survival Is No Reason to Feel Guilty”). Time didn’t erase the memory, but it gave it meaning.
Now, looking back, I realize how far we’ve both come. For so long, I viewed the accident as a mark of tragedy and guilt, but now I see it as the beginning of growth and understanding. Pain changes us, but it also teaches us to appreciate adaptability.
My childish belief that “everything is okay” has evolved into something deeper: everything was okay, and everything is great. Through loss, faith, and time, I’ve learned that healing doesn’t mean forgetting it means learning to see beauty in what remains, and in what is to come.
Works Cited
National Centers for Environmental Information (NCEI). “The Great Texas Freeze: February 11–20, 2021.” NOAA, www.ncei.noaa.gov/news/great-texas-freeze-february-2021.
Raypole, Crystal. “How to Cope with Survivor Guilt, Because Survival Is No Reason to Feel Guilty.” Healthline, 28 Sept. 2020, www.healthline.com/health/mental-health/survivors-guilt.
Leonel Fuentes is currently a student at HCC majoring in Business, with aspirations to transfer into C. T. Bauer College of Business.