Afterwards - Dead at 17 (part 2)

I want to finish the story I was telling before about the young man, a friend of my son, that was killed in a car wreck. Please don't think this is a story of troubled teenagers, or kids with bad behavior. In my opinion, this was not the case.

Yes, they were driving too fast, at night on a public street. However, it was a new street and there was no other traffic on it at 11:30 at night. They were not on drugs, they were not drinking. They were doing something that I think almost everyone has done before. They were trying to go for a joy ride. A joy ride that ended in the death of a 17 year old boy. A joy ride that ended the promising young life a truly wonderful person. And scared the life of many, many more. Amir was beloved in our community, by his family, his friends, his teachers, and the elderly people that he carried groceries out for at the health food grocery store that he worked for. It was not his job to carry out the groceries, but if he saw someone in need, he was right there to help them. Including my own Mother, before he even knew who she was.

The morning after he died at the scene of the accident, we woke up hurt and confused. The pain slammed into us as soon as opened our eyes. What were we supposed to do now? My son, Ben was worried about Amir's Mother and little brother. He had been spending a lot of time at their house, playing a new video game. He really liked Amir's family. Should we go over there? Was it too soon? How had his family been notified?

The phone rang, it was Stephanie, Aaron's mother. Aaron was the third boy at the scene. It turned out that they were at home asking the same questions. What do we do now? As we were speaking, Ben and Aaron started getting text messages. Asking if they had heard that Amir had died. Many of his friends were going to his house, to be with his Mother, to see if they could offer comfort of any kind. So we knew what we had to do. The first step. My husband was not home from Seattle yet, his flight would arrive later that day. Stephanie's husband stayed home with their younger children.

We arrived at Amir's home at the same time. The street in front of his house was filled with cars. I think we all had a knot in the pit of our stomachs as we walked up to the front door. We really didn't know what to expect.

I can't remember who opened the door, but suddenly we were surrounded by a lot of 17 and 18 year olds. Mostly boys - young men. Some were openly crying, some looked cried out. Everyone was hugging everyone else. It didn't matter the age, the gender, the race or anything else that would sometimes stop people from hugging and showing emotion. But to see boys of that age hugging and crying almost broke me down.

And then Amir's Mother, Lydia, came forward. I had never met her before. She looked at Ben and then wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. They whispered things to each other, words of comfort. Then she hugged Aaron. She didn't know Aaron as well as she did Ben. They introduced her to us and she said she was so glad we had come. The boys wandered off and talked to their friends. Lydia asked Stephanie and I to come into her bedroom. I was amazed at her composure. I thought maybe she was in shock or denial.

Once in her room she shut the door. We found out that the police had come to her door around midnight or a little after. They had informed her of her sons death, of the accident. Of course she wanted to go straight to the scene, to her son, but they told her he had already been taken to the morgue, which I knew wasn't true. It had taken a while for them to actually take his body away. But I guess they have a good reason to try to keep the family away at first.

Lydia had some questions. She really didn't understand how it had all happened, or why. She didn't even know that I had been there. One of the last people to touch her son with love. I told her all I knew, trying so hard to talk around the lump in my throat, the tears in my eyes. But how could I cry in the face of her composure?

She didn't know the boys had been to Bennigan's first. She couldn't understand why they were driving on that road, in separate cars. I couldn't make myself say the words Joy Ride. It turned out, that as more people heard the story, a lot of them immediately assumed they were racing. Even the police had assumed it at first, until they did a lot of measuring and looking at the debris field.

Amir's Father and other relatives began to arrive. Very somber faced. They wanted to be taken to the site, the place we had spent so much time at just hours before. I was horrified at the thought and I knew Ben and Aaron had to feel the same way. But we knew we had to go.

Everyone went. And there we were, once again at the dreadful place we will never forget. It looked different in the daytime. It was overcast and threatening to rain. And cold. I don't remember the temperature, but a lot of us were shaking. I didn't really know if it was from the weather or the trauma and grief.

There was the tree. The damaged tree. You could see where his car had crashed into it. It seemed higher than it should have to me. They had removed most of the car, although there were still parts of it all up and down the street. Lydia looked at the tree and her eyes followed down the embankment to where it was obvious the car, and her son had ended up.

We all stood up on the sidewalk as she slowly walked down to the site. I was even more horrified to see the pools of blood on the ground where his body had been. I couldn't see that the night before.

Lydia bent down and started to pick up some of his personal things that were still laying on the ground. His sun glasses, some change. And a bracelet that said RIP Kyle. This same group of kids had lost another friend just a few months before, in a skate boarding accident. Many of them still had on that same bracelet. Ben and Aaron had not known that boy.

It was so heartbreaking to see her searching the ground, the blood soaked ground for anything that meant something to her son. Her son that she would never look in the eyes of again. Never receive a hug from again. Slowly it started to rain. I could no longer hold back the tears, I don't think anyone could. For some weird reason, it surprised me to again see boys of that age showing so much emotion, so openly.

And then I looked at Ben. He was standing a little bit away from everyone else. He just looked so sick and in so much pain. Finding Aaron in the crowd, he had the same look. Worry hit me in the stomach along with the grief. I wasn't sure I could handle this. What was this going to do to our children? Would it affect them the rest of their lives? How much would it change them? Would they ever be the same?

My eyes met Stephanie, and a silent message passed between us. We were going to have to fight for our sons. We had to get those same boys back anyway we could. To learn to deal with their grief, pain and guilt. The guilt of survival.

We had so many questions of how and where to start. Now a little more than 2 years later, we have our answers.

However, this story has been so hard to tell, I'm afraid I will have to continue it one more time. I will just title it - Survivor's Guilt.

Please drive safely. There are so many other ways to have fun.