Friday, June 22, 2007


My best childhood friend lost her father last weekend.

He was killed in a car accident after he and his wife were hit by a drunk and/or drugged driver.

This man has raised five children. He has two grandchildren. And I can't believe that their lives have changed like this so suddenly and tragically.

All I know is that there are two little boys who will not get to grow up with their "GrandBob."
And there are four boys who are becoming men without their father. And there is a daughter who has to try and hold together the pieces of her mother and figure out how this family will keep moving.

I hate this. It's too close. I want to push it away, "no no no no;" it's too close.

My friend deserves to see her father grow to be an old man. His wife deserves to hold his wrinkled hand and watch their children's families grow. His sons deserve to have their father to look up to for a long, long time.

This man deserved better.



Tomorrow is the memorial service and I do and don't have a lot to say about this whole thing. I have an entire post in my head about the man who hit them. His name was in the paper, as well as the fact that this isn't his first DUI offense. And that he is out on bail. So he is driving around. He's driving on the streets that my parents and babies and friends and other people's parents and babies and friends drive on. I want to post his name and berate him for what he has (allegedly) done. I'm so angry I don't think he deserves for me to say allegedly. That's giving him too much credit. That's like saying, maybe, it's possible that he isn't really responsible. I'm too angry for that right now. And he is well deserving of that anger. He should be so lucky as to get to go to jail and not die in Shock Trauma.

My friend and I have been through a whole heap together, as we like to say. I know how to be her friend through boyfriends and high school drama and college projects and exams and apartments. I know how to be her friend through marriages and babies and second babies and moving and daily frustrations. I don't know what to do or say with this.

I just keep stewing.

I have the kind of stewing thinking that doesn't go anywhere. It's not like I'm working out next week's meal plan or figuring out how we're going to schedule all of our activities coming up.

I'm just kind of freaked the hell out.