My whole family attended Bryan’s funeral. We heard that, because his mom was so lacking funds, an anonymous donor had paid for the funeral, casket, and graveyard plot. I didn’t have to ask who that donor was; because there was only one person I knew who did such things anonymously. I decided to wait a bit to ask my dad to help Bryan’s mom any more financially.

Funerals are hardly happy affairs but, as in this case, when the person is so young, it’s especially heart-wrenching. Not only is the person being mourned, but the fact that he never really got a chance to live a full life is painful beyond belief. Also, the fact that his death could have been prevented so easily had one person who had contact with the truck driver acted responsibly. A truck driver thoughtlessly got behind the wheel of a huge truck when he was so inebriated he probably stumbled getting to the cab. No one saw a drunk getting behind the wheel? Did the bar employees let him wobble out of their establishment knowing he was a truck driver and would likely drive in his state of inebriation? Did someone in the parking lot see him shuffle around looking for his truck, then fumble for his keys? Did these people shrug their shoulders and say to themselves, “None of my business,” then proceed with what was their business; getting drunk themselves? The case would be in the courts for a long time. The moral responsibility belonged to the truck driver and the person or persons who continued to serve the man alcohol after it was clear that he was intoxicated; the legal responsibility would probably be the “deep pockets” of his or her employer and, by extension, their insurance company. There would probably be a cash settlement in the millions. That doesn’t mean that Bryan’s mom would be a millionaire. A settlement like that would go through a lot of sticky fingers before she got anything. As I said, that’s years away and she might not even still be around. The heartache brought on her by all of this would most likely shorten her life, and unless she had a will, her part of the settlement would probably go to the state. I can’t think of anyone less deserving than the State of Texas.

I think I cried more than some of the family members. Afterward, I wanted to go to the cemetery so Lisa stayed with me and the rest of our family went home. We got in Lisa’s car in line and slowly, somberly drove from the church to the cemetery. The weather was appropriately dreary and threatening rain any minute. The casket was placed under an open tent, along with chairs for Bryan’s family, and the casket was opened for the last time. This set off a crying spell for his mom. She knew that this was the last time she would ever see his face. I don’t know how she managed, it was almost more than I could handle. The preacher said a few words to everyone, then said a prayer and talked a little with Bryan’s mom and gave her a flower. Then they escorted her away. They knew she couldn’t handle the casket being closed forever and lowered into the ground. She was brought back to a waiting car, supported by two strong men holding her arms. Still, she stumbled. She didn’t want to leave. She would just as soon be put into the ground with her son. I had intended to speak to her, but I decided that she wouldn’t remember a lot of the details of this day. Maybe I would contact her later if it was proper. I would ask Dad; he would know.

After this terrible experience I’m a little older, but a lot wiser and less carefree. The changes I’ve undergone will never be undone, and when I’m old, there will be things events from my youth I will have forgotten, but the tragic and unnecessary death of Bryan I will always remember. Two experiences are universal for mortals: birth and death. Generally, we celebrate birth and mourn death, but there are cases where the reverse is true. There are those who believe we should mourn a birth because a human is born into a world where pain, suffering, and heartache are so prevalent. Looking into the eyes of a baby, you can’t know what pain he or she will endure, but you can know it’s likely that this person’s life will be punctuated with pain and riddled with unpleasantness. Conversely, some believe death should be viewed as a release from all those evils.

I spoke of mourning that Bryan did not get a chance to really experience life, but he did experience 20 years on earth. Maybe that was God’s plan, but that is difficult to accept. Was it God’s plan that the truck driver live the rest of his life in prison; that Bryan’s mother live a lonely life for the rest of her days?; that Bryan be taken from life just when he was beginning to be a productive person and learning that life could be joyful? It’s unlikely that anyone close to this disaster would ever see any good come of it. When I thought that, I realized that I might be the one person who gained anything from Bryan’s death. I gained knowledge and wisdom. I learned not to judge people based on limited information, and I learned about forgiveness. Of course, I’m just one person that Bryan’s life touched. I have no way of knowing all the things he did or all the lives he touched. Once again, I see through a glass, darkly.

Lisa drove us home. I sat silently, feeling her glances and her concern about whether I was “OK”. Apparently, she didn’t want to say something so cliché, so we rode in silence. Life goes on. I tried to think what stage of grief I was in. I was past denial, and I had experienced enough anger to last me a while. The next stage was bargaining, but I had no bargains to make and nothing with which to bargain. The depression stage I don’t need, so that leaves acceptance. I guess I’m accepting. What else can I do … reject? No … Bryan is dead. It’s not fair, but he’s dead. I lay across my bed to think. Then I remembered my intention to check if he had got a job working on the window. I had forwarded his resume to the hiring supervisor with instructions that he was to be hired. (It’s great to be the daughter of the boss.) I clicked on my cell phone to call the hiring supervisor.

“This is Susan Wilkenson.”

“Susan, this is Sarah Brooks. I sent you some information on a Bryan Smith for hiring. Did anything happen there?”

“Yes, he’s been working here. He hasn’t been in for a few days and I can’t get hold of him. I don’t know what’s going on!”

“Tell me, was he a good programmer?”

“He’s one of the best I’ve ever seen! Wait, what do you mean ‘was’? Has something happened?”

“Well, Susan, I guess you had no way of knowing. Bryan is dead.”

“No! He’s only like 19 or 20 years old! What happened?”

“Did you see a report on TV a few days ago about a huge wreck on Highway 59 … an 18 wheeler plowed into the back of some stalled cars?”

“Yeah, that was awful!”

“Bryan’s car was at the end of that line. His funeral was today.”

“Oh no! Sarah, he was such a nice guy, a hard worker, and a wonderful programmer!”

“Yeah, I’m sure he was all those. I had just got to know him.”

“Were you two dating?”

“No. Not yet. Not ever, now.”

“Oh, Sarah, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe it! He was so sweet … and that smile!”

“Yeah, I know about that smile.”

“Oh … I know what that means. Sarah, I’m so sorry! We’ll really miss him!”

“Yeah, so will I. Well, I’m sure you have paperwork to do to reduce the workforce by one person. I hope he signed up for life insurance through the company. His mom can use all the help she can get.”

“I’ll look into it. I’m sure something can be done.”

“Nothing illegal.”

“Oh, no, of course not. Your dad gives a speech to every new employee about playing it straight!”

“Thanks, Susan. If I meet any more great programmers, I’ll send them your way.”

“Thanks, Sarah. Bye.”

That was it. The more I learned about Bryan, the more it seemed that his death could not be a part of God’s plan. Still, it was good to know that Bryan had found a job doing something he loved, even though he only got to do it for a short time.

I decided to talk to my dad without more delay. He was at home, opting not to go into the office after the funeral, so I made my way down to his home office and stood at the door. I didn’t want to startle him, so I said quietly, “Dad?”

He still jumped a bit. “Sarah! Come in! What’s up?”

“I want to talk to Bryan’s mom at some point. It was very obviously not a good time at the funeral. I’d like to tell her what a good job he had been doing on the window and how he was getting his priorities straight and all that.”

“Give her at least a month, then give her a call. When you tell her who you are, she may invite you over. If she doesn’t, just tell her over the phone. You’re not going to say anything negative, are you?”

“Oh, no sir! Bryan had changed so much! He was doing a wonderful job on the window. He had a whole new outlook. I can’t forget his smile the last time I saw him.” Suddenly, my voice was breaking and tears were forming.

My dad smiled and reached out to me. I moved in and he took me in his strong arms for a hug. “Well, now I understand. There was just a little bit more to this relationship than I thought.” Since my last cry, my body had produced a new supply of tears. These new tears began to flow. “Daddy, he had changed so much! He didn’t deserve to die! It’s not fair!”

“So, my little girl who is sick of boys found one she thought wasn’t all that bad.”

A thought came to me that stopped my tears immediately. “I’ve seen him naked!”

“Oh! Lucky you!”

“Daddy! I’ll tell you a secret. There is nothing attractive to a girl about a naked guy. They act like it on TV and all that. They show women going out to a bar where the guys strip. I guess some do, but it’s probably very few. Men and women are different.”

My dad picked up a pencil and spoke as he wrote. “Men … and … women … are ….”

“Daddy! Don’t be silly! I mean, guys love to see a naked girl, but it doesn’t work the other way around! The male body wasn’t designed to be looked at.”

“Honey, I’ve been around a while. I’m on to your ‘secret’. I have a secret for you. A nude female body is not that great to look at, either. Oh, a guy is not going to look away, of course. But what’s attractive is to show off some parts and cover others and leave them to the imagination. A guy’s imagination will create more beauty from a partially clad female than he would find in a nude female. Clothing designers make a lot of money creating clothing for women that inspires men’s imagination.”

“And they say women are complex!”

“We are all complex. It makes life more interesting.”

“You studied this issue?”

“Oh, yes. I studied what the experts had to say; experts such as Hugh Heffner. He was brilliant.”

“That name sounds familiar.”

“He published a lot of good information monthly. He called his literary work, ‘Playboy’.”

“Daddy, you read ‘Playboy’?”

“Yes, when I was a teenager. I wouldn’t have been normal if I hadn’t.”

“I wonder if mom read ‘Playgirl’.”

“Now, we’re back to differences in males and females. ‘Playgirl’ didn’t last long. Very few women would buy it.”

“I can see why!”

“Yes. Now, we’ve had our ‘birds and bees’ talk.”

“I don’t think that’s how most ‘birds and bees’ talks go.”

“You’re right, your mother should have been the one to discuss this with you, but I’m not sure she knows much about it.”

“Daddy!”

“I’m joking, of course!”

“I think I’ll hold that over your head next time I want something.”

“Like you need something to hold over my head!”

“You’re right, Daddy. I have more than I need. OK, Daddy, I’ll let you get back to your work. I think I’ll go for a drive.”

“OK, be careful.”

“After what I’ve seen, I’ll be super careful, Daddy. Bye”

“Bye, Sweetie.”

I felt better after talking with my dad. I put on a short sexy dress just for the heck of it. I checked my makeup and took off for … well, when I get there I’ll know.

I drove aimlessly and found myself in an area not too far from the university with numerous small shops. I parked my car, got out, and went into a clothing shop.

Now, a while back I saw someone with whom I was somewhat impressed. We didn’t know each other, didn’t speak to each other, and I thought it unlikely that I would ever see this person again. Some people use a phrase for this kind of meeting: “Ships that pass in the night”. I thought the phrase was apropos of my meeting with this person. But here in a dress shop idly looking at dresses … hoping to find that dress, I felt as if I were being watch. I looked up and found myself face to face with that “ship”. This is the “ship” that I quietly slipped by one night as it slipped by my “ship” as silently and stealthily. The two ships now met in daylight. Both captains issued orders to stop, and the orders were passed down to the crew. Both ships slowed, then stopped. There would be no stealth now. No slipping by silently without a word. Inevitably, one would accost the other. Who is this person? Houston is such a big city for a chance meeting like this. Then again, I ran into Bryan, and the odds of that were infinitesimally smaller because the geographical area involved was much larger. Am I being followed? I briefly thought about my former life. Was this the day it caught up with me? I doubted that. This person looked not at all like someone eager to expose someone secrets, lest they know some of hers. Yes, she looked like someone with a past. Either she had a past, or she somehow missed out on a lot.

Next: Rivers, Brooks, and Lakes?