IMAGINE

Imagine, if you can, a little boy. A fairly normal child with blond hair, hazel eyes and a bit skinny. After he was born, he was sucking his thumb in the first hour. He had all the normal childhood problems; some never identified illness that had him covered with red spots; hospitalization at eighteen months for dehydration. At about three years of age, he wanted to see what it was like to slide down the stairs in a box. That experiment went fairly well, until he stopped at the bottom. Presto, one broken foot.

This child was always a little different from his brother and sister. By four, he had taught himself his numbers and the basics of addition. Numbers and art always held a fascination for him. Unfortunately, letters weren't quite so easy and he had to repeat kindergarten; but once through that, he became an honor roll student.

After six, the usual happened; the divorce. This child and his brother and sister went with their father and their mother went to California to begin rebuilding her life. Now, imagine this child only getting to see his mother once a year, twice at the most. But he's proud of her. He's proud that she's a soldier in the U.S. Army; proud that she's a helicopter mechanic and always happy and grateful for the rare times that he can see her.

The final chapter of this little scenario is the last three week visit that she got to spend with her children; all three of them. After having spent three weeks with them, she drops them off at their grandma's house and sees her youngest son alive for the last time. Within two weeks, he was gone. In a flash of an instant, he is no more. He wasn't taken by God. He didn't, by carelessness, run out in front of a truck. He was killed by someone who made the choice of driving when they shouldn't have. Someone making the choice of driving way too fast on an unmarked country road.

A little ten year old boy named Troy. Honor Roll Student, perfect attendance, active participant in Cub Scouts was killed. Try to imagine saying good-bye to your child. "See you later", only later never comes. Unless you count "later" as viewing him in the big green box on the platform. Green was his favorite color. But he couldn't get up and hug me. "Later" meant seeing him with the darkest tan he had ever had. They had to cover the bruises. "Later" meaning I saw my youngest child lying quietly on those cushions. He really looked like he was sleeping.

Now imagine this. Spending the day with your friends. It's a nice day. You watch TV, play sports, work on the car. It's a hot day. So to cool off, you have a couple of beers. Or maybe that was 3 or 4...or five. Somebody mentions food, so you volunteer to make the run. No big deal. You'll be back in a flash. You say "See you later", only later is when you're at the city jail or in the hospital or in the morgue. Because you didn't notice the light change and you plowed into the side of a car full of children. Imagine spending the rest of your life living with the fact that you killed innocent people because of one simple, unimportant at the time, choice that you made.

Troy was not even six weeks into being ten. Because of someone's carelessness and thoughtlessness, his brother and sister have to struggle on in their lives without their little brother, whom they loved. All three birthdays were within six weeks of each other. In fact, Troy's birthday was three days before his brother's. How easy is it going to be for Terry to celebrate his birthday, knowing that Troy never will again.

It isn't fair that it happened and it isn't right, but very little in life truly is. Anger won't make a little boy come back from the grave. Righteousness won't resurrect him. But his memory will always live on in his parents and brother and sister and all his many family and friends. Troy was, and is, truly loved and will be forever. Written a month after Troy was killed on 4 July 1996.

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