A life

My mom and I were sitting comfortably in the living room. Our conversation wandered to an accident she had seen coming home. There was a helicopter there, she said. It looked really bad. Be careful in the intersection, will you? I shrugged it off, sure, of course. She says that every time I have to go through the intersection. The phone rang. Pick it up, it's probably for you. I answer and hand it to my mom. Her tone becomes serious as she answers the voice on the line. Yes, we'll do whatever we can to help, of course. I'll call people. Let us know if anyone needs a ride anywhere. Somebody we know in the accident. The little boy, he's alright. The father, the father isn't. The father died. He died so close to home. So close to his family. Killed.
Dad won't be there for his kids tonight.
Mom lays awake in an empty bed.
He's gone.