by Carrie Frank

Created on: April 27, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

I was 18 and could take on the world. I had just been married and was still going out with friends from high school. That is probably why Walt's death made such an impact on me.

My husband and I were at my cousins wedding, when we overheard that Walt wouldn't be coming because Walt had gotten into an accident. The family had to make decisions, he was brain dead.

Walt and his father had the same name. Being invincible, I assumed that Walt Jr. was as well.

My husband and I were ready to run out the door, to be with our friend, when his father was dead, and hold his hand. He would need his friends and, being New Years Eve, we knew most wouldn't know for at least a day or two.

I went to my cousin to ask her where Walt was. That was when the world fell from under me. It was the son, not the father, who was dead. The boy whose waist I held on to when sledding, the boy I had a crush on in fifth grade.

I don't know why, but, one of my first thoughts was that he moved his lips when he read. I noticed that in seventh grade.

It wasn't until the next day that everyone found out that Walt had been drinking and hit a tree. Funny, it was 100 feet from where we went to school. Fox Run Road. Our parents warned us to be careful on that road because it was a winding road. We all thought we could drive it with our eyes closed.

For the first few parties after everyone was so careful. They didn't drink and drive, collected keys and had a designated driver who didn't drink at all. But, gradually the designated driver drank a drink or a beer, until they were convinced that this only happened to other people. Not them.

Walt's death hung over me. I saw his parents cry, and his sister become a shadow of herself.

I was a parent when Walt killed himself. Maybe that is why it still hurts. Why I know that I could end up just like Walt, if I made the choices he made. Too bad that some people seem to forget.

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