As a journalist, I love my job. Writing is what I’ve wanted to do since I was young. However, journalism is not always about positive stories, exposing truths or even receiving press passes to cover great musical performances. 

Sometimes as a journalist, things become extremely serious, and the emotions brought to the surface during these times can be hard.

I covered my first fatality on Tuesday, and then another fatal wreck on Wednesday.

The death of the motorcyclist on Beersheba Highway on Tuesday afternoon left me feeling an abundance of emotions. I saw the motorcycle and helmet. A shoe and his bag were lying on the ground, and there he was, underneath a white sheet on the pavement. 

My heart physically ached as I thought about how beautiful of a day it was. The blue sky was filled with soft, thin clouds, and the warmth of the sun shone down. I thought of how joyful it must have been riding along the countryside in the sunshine, with the wind blowing and taking in the scenery of flourishing trees, blooming flowers and majestic mountains. I believe it was a feeling of freedom and bliss. 

During this ride, the motorcyclist hit a tractor and was killed instantly. I hope he felt free, blissful and at peace during the moments leading up to his death. If he felt fear, I hope it was brief. I pray his spirit is freer than ever.

I won’t forget the blue Kawasaki Ninja ZX-6R. I won’t forget the white sheet, the scraped helmet or his backpack. I won’t forget his name, or the fact he’d just moved to Tennessee and loved nature. 

My brain was numb, yet I had a pressing feeling of anxiety in my stomach and chest while there. Once I’d taken photos and gained the information needed, I walked back to my car. When the ignition came on, Ryan Adams began playing in the background. I drove down the road as tears began falling down my face.

I cried several times that night. Anger, frustration and heartache infiltrated my mind and body. Anger toward myself for not being tough enough to hold back tears, anger and frustration of knowing a human being had just lost his life over one mistake, heartache for the man, his loved ones and the tractor driver who’ll look out of his window and see where the terrible accident took a man’s life and changed his own forever.

I was taught during these moments how quickly we can pass from this Earth, and how fragile and delicate our bodies are: the vessels holding our souls. I was reminded how precious and beautiful life is and to be grateful for every breath I’m able to take, as well as each day I get to spend with those I love. Although this was one of the hardest weeks of my job, I learned the most beneficial lessons. I will continue to carry these with me until my own day of passing.

Standard reporter Atlanta Northcutt can be reached at473-2191.