Although I like rock and roll and have lots of favorite bands in that line of music, there is one that will always stand out to me. It is a Country and Western Band - the Oak Ridge Boys because there is a song by them that just tears me to bits when I hear it. They are a wonderful foursome and seem so clean and nice besides, belting out a good song in such perfect harmony.

One night, as I sat home alone, just rocking and watching TV, the Boys were doing "I'll go to My Grave Loving You". I thought the song had such beautiful lyrics, was poignant and the tune was perfect. I thought, "how sad, but beautiful". I began crying for no obvious reason.

The song wasn't even over, when my sister called hysterical. "They've called me from the County Sheriff's Office!" She screamed. "Steve's had an accident!" She screamed.

"Is he hurt?" I asked, beginning to get nervous and upset myself.

"It killed him!" She screamed.

"I'll be right over!" I rushed downstairs and jumped in the car. My hand was shaking so, I could hardly get the key in right.

Steve was my nineteen year-old nephew, my sister's only son. He was just as much a son to me as he was her, I guess.

I was in shock. My skin was crawling and my leg shaking so badly, I didn't think I could make it.

I made it to her apartment and she sat there all alone. How do you console someone who has just lost their son? How could the sheriff just call on the phone? Why didn't he come in person or send someone? That is something that has bothered me for a very long time.

Pretty soon, people began coming over and I had to go tell my mother who was at work at the time. Steve was one of her favorite grandchildren, as we all knew.

Oh, what a horrible time. Steve had just been by to see me that very day to show me his new sport car, that he had just bought that very day. He was on his way to a beer bust at one of the lakes. I thought, "Oh, no." But, he had come out of accidents before and I really didn't give it too much thought, thinking surely he would be careful and take care of his new car.

He had had a friend riding with him on this day and the friend came out of the wreck without a scratch. Steve was thrown clear of the car and had no idea what hit him.

Later on, talking with his friends was just a sad time. One told me he was on the way to the lake and was stopped at a roadblock because there had been an accident at the lake. They would not tell him that it was his friend, Steve.

Steve always swore by blue jeans so my sister had him buried in jeans and a shirt.

To this day, I miss him and I cry as I write this. I just wonder if that song was a message from Steve, telling his mother he loved her. Or maybe, to the whole family. But, I knew he did as we loved him and still do.

Steve's accident happened in nineteen-eighty-one and I still can't help but believe the Oak Ridge Boys were sending a message.

Learn more about this author, E. V. SHAW.
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