Saturday afternoon at Coolidge Park, Donna Christian Lowe approached a seated Octavio Devia Paz, who wore a suit jacket with colorful flowers attached, a white Nike hat, sharp white pants and shoes. He smiled and moved to stand up, leaning on his cane.
Everyone Saturday said he looked great, Lowe included, but of course it wasn't so simple. He showed her his leg, displaying one of numerous scars that pock his entire body. Twenty-four surgeries and one year ago, two fast-driving cars jostled in the heart of one of Chattanooga's most popular places for walkers and tourists, sending one car twirling into him and his wife and young son, who were standing on a street corner, vacationers preparing to leave town after a final Walnut Street Bridge stroll.
The event Saturday was in their honor. Under his suit jacket was a T-shirt depicting him and his late wife, Ana Posso Rodriguez, and their child, Jonathan Devia. But the event also honored the unlikely community that formed in the wake of the crash.
Lowe is a broadcaster and part of a local effort to help an immigrant family going through tremendous loss in a town they didn't know. Adolfo Devia Paz, Octavio's brother, approached with a gift for her, a piece of clothing evoking their native Colombia. Sniffling, she posed for a photo with the men.
"They're my new brothers," she said.
Photo Gallery
One year after car killed his wife and child, Octavio Devia Paz returns to reimagined Frazier Avenue
The crash led to public outcry and a reimagining of Frazier Avenue — one that critics, including Octavio Devia Paz's lawyer, Mark Warren, decked out in University of Tennessee gear at Saturday's event, say came far too late.
Now, the road is remade. A lower speed limit, crosswalks and a large bike lane mark an improvement in the eyes of urbanist advocates, though some drivers surely grumble.
Octavio Devia Paz arrived late last week with his family from Jacksonville, Florida, where they live. He was happy to see the transformation of Frazier Avenue, he said in an interview at the event. There is more he feels can be done. He imagined wider sidewalks, and showed a reporter a picture of little speed bumps and pedestrian protection barriers he has seen in Jacksonville.
If Chattanooga had these, he said, it could have saved his family's life.
Safer streets are a relatively new preoccupation for him. When his wife and son, Jonathan, were alive, he dedicated himself to ensuring they lacked for nothing, he said. Now, his days are very different. He lives in the same home as before. He can't work. He said he will be moving soon. Too many memories.
His body, full of screws, pains him daily. His injuries prevent him from have any more children. He struggles to sleep — not without pills at least. The pain is often unbearable and makes him wish for death, he said. His mental health is a daily struggle. With the pain, he said it is hard to imagine the future.
Yet the event was a celebration of life and possibility. Kids and adults alike painted butterflies — symbols of transformation which were set to be placed, for now, on the wood boards on the building where the crash occurred.
At the microphone, hairstylist Geno Wallace, who helped organize the event, thanked all for coming. Pastors from Redemption to the Nations who helped the family after the crash offered prayers. Adolfo Devia Paz thanked North Chattanooga businesses, the clergy, the media. Chattanooga City Council member Jenny Hill pledged to turn grief into action.
"Pedestrian safety is public safety," she said.
(READ MORE: 'The only sister I had': The human toll of Chattanooga's spike in pedestrian deaths)
All went next to a nearby Coolidge Park spot where a saucer magnolia tree would be planted in their honor, and a presenter discussed the healing power of the forest. Then came the event's final act.
As dusk settled, the assembled — clergy, new friends, pedestrian advocates, family, business owners, political leaders, lawyers — lit candles. A tinny version of "Jingle Bells" played from the nearby carousel as they began to walk toward Frazier Avenue.
They were walking slowly, led by Octavio Devia Paz, who alternated between his wheelchair and a slow walk with his cane. The TV cameras ran ahead.
Reaching the stairs that approach Frazier Avenue, Octavio Devia Paz stood. He went up, easy-now, up the stairs, cresting at the street where a new bike lane stood between him and the site of the crash.
Nearby, a car was turned into the bike lane, letting someone out. More cars were lined up on either side of the red light, waiting for a green. The pedestrian light turned green and Octavio Devia Paz began to walk to cross the street to the site of the crash but held back.
He wanted to cross. The next time the walk light turned, the group walked across en masse, holding their candles, moving slowly, as the robo-voice counted down the seconds — "10, nine, eight" — until it was time for the cars to drive again.
The sidewalk on the other side was thin, and it was hard for the crowd to pack on the corner. Some people overflowed into the street a bit and cars eked around them.
A couple guys stood at the perimeter of the group, signaling cars to be careful. Octavio Devia Paz, standing where life forever changed, tears streaming down his face, said something quietly in Spanish. A pastor translated.
"Thank you for this beautiful day," he said. "God bless you."
Contact Andrew Schwartz at aschwartz@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6431.