Last Thursday evening, about fifteen minutes before work began, I was informed of why my manager seemed in tears. A co-worker of mine had died last night, in a car accident. It looked like he had taken a corner too fast. He was seventeen. While normally I wouldn't tell you the events I have planned, today I will.
Today I will spend most of my day in the company of evening shift workers. We worked with the young man who died. We'll have a potluck lunch together, then go to the memorial service. The seventeen year old's funeral will be in the states, so that his family can attend.
I don't have much to say about what's happened the past tow weeks, not for me personally. Between school and work, I didn't attend Octoberfest, and with the distressing news, I didn't do much of anything. For simplicity's sake, I'm going to call the young man B.
B was a christian, a quarterback, involved in clubs, good at school. He was the type of kid you can see growing into a family man. His family had no problems, and he never talked about ever fighting with his parents. When the family came to eat at our workplace, he'd go out, say hello, and give his mom a hug. B was a good kid.
The base commander sent a chaplain to our work the day after he heard. One by one, which each broke down with the chaplain to comfort us. Even our manager, an atheist, was comforted somewhat.
I was not close to B, but he was a good worker, and willing to help out. His girlfriend also worked at Burger King. They had not been dating for more than a month. On Friday was homecoming.
Life is sad. It's short and sweet, and for some it's shorter than others. People rarely expect it to be so short, and never expect to lose a kid who didn't deserve to die.
The chaplain did say something to me though. He reminded me that God has a plan, and even this said event, this horrible event served a purpose. B had dedicated his life to God, and I believe even his death had a reason beyond he took a corner too fast. He had only been driving a month. There is a small candle where he died. The daughter of the evening manager, who was friend with B and went to school with him, came in the other day with a pair of broken glasses. She and her sister had been out to the crash site. They had found his glasses.
Tomorrow, we're going to give them to his parents. I know that if someone had found my mom's glasses, I would have wanted them and this seems the right thing to do. As for me, this merely cements my feelings on the month of September. It is the saddest month I know.
I don't have much more to say. I know this blog is short, and I know most of you who read this aren't interested in a nameless boy in an accident, other than to say, how sad. But I can tell you that this boy, nameless to you, touched more lives in seventeen years than many people much older.
One Final Byte: I hope one day, cars no longer kill.