It was about 25 years ago when my uncle John, and cousins Donny, Dennis and Terry left for an evening of drinking to celebrate the holidays. In the wee hours of the morning Terry’s T-top car left the road and slammed into a large tree—roof first—killing everyone but Dennis.
The boys were all in their late teens or early 20s—such an incredible tragedy. Donny and Dennis were brothers and all of them lived within a few miles of each other.
I remember my Mother waking me up very early in the morning and told me to get dressed. When I asked her why, she said John had been killed in a car accident. I didn’t realize until later that Donny and Terry had been killed as well.
I was young then and nobody expected me to deal with it. I don’t know if anyone even asked me how I felt about it. I’m sure my mother and father did—they are good like that. I was too young for it to really bother me anyway.
Every year since then, my Mother’s family gets together to light a tree on my Grandmother’s yard in memory of John. My Mother has 13 brothers and sisters and they all have an average of three kids, so it’s quite a gathering.
It always makes me think how lucky I am and how quickly things can change.
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