Death, The First Time

Do you recall the first dead body you had to see? Mine was my great grandmother. That’s

fairly normal I would think. However, when a child the same age as yourself dies, how do you

attempt to wrap your childish brain around such a horrible thing. Well, I had no clue.

I can’t recall now the exact age I was when this happened, but I damn sure know I wasn’t

ready for it and honestly, I’m still hurt by it. I do recall the day as if it were yesterday though. It

was a dark, depressing, gray day that just shouldn’t have happened. I got the news after a

particularly boring bike ride. I must have been ten or eleven years old, looking back.

I came into my house to find my mother sitting on the couch. There was a strange feeling

in the air that I truly felt, but couldn’t and still can’t put my finger on. Now, I wonder had she

broken down? Had she just scraped herself from the floor? Something along those lines, most

certainly.

A week or so previously all the kids in the neighborhood met in the spot where we played

football and had a good game. Daniel and I went back to his house for a drink of something cold

afterward. I went home. This was the last time I would ever see Daniel.

Lee was Daniel’s cousin. They were the same age. Had you seen them you would have

thought they were brothers. They were pretty tight. Sometimes they would fight in the ditches in

front of the houses on our block, but at the end of the day they would forgive one another. We all

played together on the weekends.

Daniel, Lee and I would often get together due to their grandparents living a few doors

down from me. I guess you could say they were some of the first friends I ever had. I didn’t care

for Lee as much as Daniel. He would often act like a complete prick.

There are right and wrong ways to do everything under the sun apparently. It sucks that

we, as human beings, often have no clue how to speak ugly truths compassionately. It’s

something I believe we should strive to do. Especially after what happened to my friends and I. It

just seems to me you shouldn’t have to deal with such heavy issues until you’re 18. You know,

like voting or going to war. It just doesn’t work that way. It can certainly leave marks. And does.

As I said earlier, I have no clue what was running through my mother’s head as I came

through the door on that day that would change me forever. I immediately knew something bad

had gone down. Something truly bad.

“Come here bud,” my mother spoke softly. When she called me “bud” in that tone of

voice I knew without a doubt something horrible was about to be told to me. I literally had one of

those moments where you feel like you’ve gone over the first hill on a roller coaster but it’s all

on the inside and you never left the ground.

“Daniel is dead,” she said. “Daniel,” I repeated. I had no clue who she was speaking of at

first. I assumed maybe an older friend of hers had passed or something. I’d just played with my

friend Daniel this past weekend so it couldn’t be him, right? “Son, Daniel ____ is dead.”

She then told me how the whole tithing happened.

Lee, Daniel’s cousin, was spending the night over at Daniel’s house. At some point in

time the guys thought it would be a great idea to clean Daniel’s .22 rifle. In Georgia, pretty much

every kid over the age of ten has some sort of firearm training. At least they used to. Times are

changing.

Guns are usually just a part of the house in Georgia. Therefore, firearm training courses

are supposedly made to be gone through… supposedly. Some apparently do not.

As so many accidents start off, the guys were apparently joking around with the gun. Lee

had it and was pointing it at Daniel. People said he thought it was unloaded. I can’t help it, I

know Lee and I sometimes wonder what I don’t want to wonder.

The trigger was pulled and a .22 bullet struck my friend Daniel right below one of his

eyes sending a bullet to bounce around in his cranium. I heard his step-dad came into the room

and held him in his arms telling him he loved him until he passed.

The darkness of reality that has stayed with me since this incident has been truly

troublesome throughout my life. I can’t explain it other than my brain simply wasn’t ready to

process such information. No child should have to. It’s truly horrid.

There’s really no good way to wrap this one up. Death happens. But damn, that truly hurt.

Still does. I assume it always will.

Parents, I beg of you to be mindful of the way you explain tragedy to your children. I do

not envy you. I’m sure it’s absolutely awful. Keep in mind, the way they process at that age is

not the same way you do as an adult. Generally, tragedy is always remembered. Be gentle. R.I.P.

Daniel…

Occasionally I see his mother out somewhere. It destroys my heart.

By Joe S. Thomas

Website: socialfit77.wordpress.com

Twitter: antiyouall