This time of year has been a bit difficult since the Halloween right before my eleventh birthday. I absolutely love autumn and the holidays in it, but it also has a difficult memory.
October 25, 1997. My first time dealing with loss. In memory, at least. I heard about it on the 27th, when my mom was walking me to school. We got into the schoolyard, and were met by two giggling girls who were a year older. “Do you know Bryan Williams? He’s dead.” They we’re laughing at the fact that a classmate, and friend, of mine was dead.
Mom and I went straight into my classroom to find my teacher sitting on her desk, crying.
That day was a blur. The counselors came in to talk to us, but I frankly don’t remember much of anything. It wasn’t a normal day. No class work was done.
The day of his funeral was the day of our Halloween party. We had a substitute, which was weird for a party day. My mom picked me up during the party to go to Bryan’s funeral.
There weren’t many people there, and that fact still gets to me today. A child was killed, but there weren’t many people there.
Bryan David Williams, ten years old, was killed because his only ride home chose to drive drunk. Bryan was thrown from the vehicle, and landed on his head- killing him instantly.