Age:[ 19 ] Gender:[ Female ]

     On November 4th 2001, my brother, Garrett, was driving home from a
party, when he decided to pass the car of another High School student. 
This happened on a blacktop, it's a two-lane tarred road, which was less
than a mile from our house.  The person whose car he had passed went
back to the party for help.  

     I can't imagine what he sees in his nightmares, and frankly, I
don't want to.  I pity that poor guy, he saw my brother all cut up and
everything.  One of the First Responders there was one of my brother's
many friends.  As soon as he recognized the car, he went from a First
Responder to an anxious friend.  They rushed my brother to the hospital
and cleaned him up.  The next day, November 5th, he passed away in the
hospital.  He was sixteen. 

     I was in my first semester at a local college two hours away.  I
had turned my phone's ringer off because I had gotten a prank call at
one am.  Needless to say, I was very surprised to find my entire family,
minus Garrett, at my door at nine am on Sunday.  

    I didn't really think anything was wrong because Garrett works and
he was almost never seen with the family.  My mother sat me down and
told me about what happened. Right then I KNEW he was dead, because my
mother does not joke about things like that.  I left a note for my
roommate and went home with my family. 

     When we got home, two other families, whom we were friends with,
had cleaned our house, with the help of their daughters who are my
sister's friends.  My best friend left work after being told what
happened.  She told her mom, "Get me to Genny."  I thank her so much for
walking around town with me and just GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE. 

     I became "the Rock" for my family in the days immidately following
his death.  It was all I could do to spare my younger siblings. 
Everyone said, "Be the Rock."  Everyone except my Math teacher in High
School, she said, "It's okay to be you."  I thank her for that. 

     It seems for the most part that my parents are in the rejection
stage of grief.  They don't want to talk about it.  It seems only myself
and Mark, my littler brother, have accepted what happened.  I know that
sounds strange, but my parents and my sister are different now, I know
everyone's different after a death, but it's like they have lost
themselves because of what happened that night. 

     I still talk to my brother.  He's one of my seven spirit guides.  I
know some think it's crazy to talk to the deceased, but they are people
too.  The way I see it, most people pray to God, and I talk to my
brother.  We are closer now than we were when he was on Earth.  He is
here for me to yell at, to cry to, and to share my happiness.  I tell
him, "My life is MY life, but you it's your life too."  


     There are so many things he didn't get to do: to graduate, to get
married, to make something of himself.  I feel like I will get to do all
of these things and he can be there when they happen.  I know he's here
now watching me write this and I know he's smiling because he knows I
have found acceptance of what happenend and he understands my wanting to
share my experience.  I do know that death is not the end, the deceased
will watch over their loved ones and I'll tell you why.  BECAUSE THEY
CARE ABOUT US.


     Please remember that a deceased child most often gets elevated to
perfect status by the grieving parents.  Also remember that the siblings
of a lost child should not be lost in the shuffle.  Everyone is equally
impoortant to God and thus should not be over looked simply because the
child has passed before their parents.  Thank you.