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Illustration by Drew Shannon
I had reached the age of 67 without having a life-threatening experience until this past summer.
My daughter and I set out for a walk one windy, hot July afternoon with my 17-month-old granddaughter in the stroller. Our destination was Toronto’s Dufferin Grove Park to check out one of the city’s many farmers’ markets. After perusing the stalls, we decided to sit on a bench in the shade of a big old maple tree to let my granddaughter enjoy a snack.
We had barely sat down and settled when we heard a loud crack. My daughter asked me if I thought it was coming from the tree above us as she started to move the stroller out from beneath it. Then there was another louder crack! I must have realized that the tree – or part of it – was coming down because instinct took over. I bent myself in half and covered my head and neck. I remember thinking, “This is it, this is how it could end.”
I could hear my daughter screaming, “Help! Somebody help! My mother is under there!” This told me she was alive and not under the tree, but of course, I wasn’t sure if she or my granddaughter was unharmed.
From 2024: Family of woman killed by falling tree branch in Toronto’s Trinity Bellwoods Park sues city for $1-million
Somehow I stayed calm and reassured her I was alive, but honestly, I was in shock that I was alive. Massive branches pinned me to the ground and leaves and limbs surrounded me. I could not see daylight or anything else, but I could hear my granddaughter wailing inconsolably.
In those terrifying moments of chaos and fear, something extraordinary happened.
Before emergency services could arrive, members of an unhoused encampment within the park rushed to our aid. Several of them provided immediate comfort and care to my daughter and granddaughter, while five incredible individuals worked together to lift the heavy tree branches off me. Their compassionate response calmly reassured me that they would get me out, and they did. Quickly, they were able to lift the limbs high enough for me to crawl out and the first thing I saw was my daughter, tears streaming down her face. We embraced and comforted my granddaughter. I saw a large scratch on the baby’s ankle and when I touched it, she cried out in pain. I felt helpless.
Amid this, Toronto Parks staff arrived and attended to us with professionalism and kindness. When emergency services arrived, we received the medical attention and support we needed. Their co-ordination and compassion helped guide us from disaster to safety. There was even some humour in the moment when one of the firefighters, looking at the fallen tree, and then looking at me, suggested I buy a lottery ticket!
Goodbye old Maple, you’ve served this neighbourhood well
When I think about how huge the tree was and that it was taken down a couple of days later, I think the firefighter saw something I was unable to absorb in the moment. The three of us had averted disaster.
The stroller handle was bent and misshapen owing to the force of the branches that fell on it. It had been an expensive purchase but its sturdiness might have saved my granddaughter’s life or kept her from serious injury. UPPAbaby replaced the handle free of charge when they learned what happened.
One of the hardest things for me was to see the trauma this caused my daughter, a fantastic new mom. The realization that there’s much we cannot protect our children from became a reality for her that day.
I am astonished that we came through this terrifying experience relatively unscathed physically. We had bruises and scratches and we’re all a little skittish when there’s a loud noise or bang but the flashbacks are diminishing as time goes on.
A few weeks after the incident, my daughter and I returned to the park to express our appreciation with gifts of food to the people in the encampment. We were greeted with expressions of relief that we were okay, and some shared their own stories of that day.
One woman was a veteran suffering from PTSD. She told us that when she heard the loud cracks and screaming, she froze. She apologized for not coming to our aid. We assured her that we understood and that there had been more than enough hands.
It doesn’t matter who I tell the story to; they are amazed that we are alive to tell it and inspired by the compassion and help we received from so many.
We learned that we are never alone when the community finds us in our most vulnerable moments.
Sandy Innes lives in Mississauga.
