ENC 1101-B3 & B4: Writing for Discovery

If there were one memorable event in my life that has developed “Who I am” it would undoubtedly be the death of one of my best friends. The Story starts out with me and my best friend Mike. We were going hiking for a week in the mountains of Bolder Colorado, it was our second night there and we were getting ready to go to bed when the news of John’s death came. Mike had just signed on AOL to check his email, when a close friend of ours, Richard Carr, sent him the worst instant message either of us had ever seen. It stated:
“Mike is Tylor there?”
Yea.
Then I don’t know if I should tell you this “.
At this point in the conversation I figured maybe Richard hooked up with a girl that I liked or something to that effect, but I was oblivious to the news that was yet to come. Then Richard said
“ Are you guys sitting down?
Yes.
John and Danny were in a car accident
And
And John is dead
I’m sorry Tylor”.
I don’t know why but what he just told me didn’t quit sink in right then. I looked over at Mike and saw the tears running down his face. At this point the walls started collapsing around me like it was my hole life tumbling down. I followed Mike out to the back porch, and just stared out into space for about an hour. When I say space I mean it, I looked strait up into the sky. It was a real clear night so there so many stars, but I looked right past them. Any other time their beauty would have pondered me, but after the news I just got I didn’t even look twice at them. I stared so hard it was though I wasn’t staring at any thing at all; it was just a blank look out. You know the one where someone has to wave in front of your face to get you out of it.
Now up till then not a word had been spoken sense we had received the news. I turned and looked at Mike, and just broke down in tears. We talked for around an hour about how we weren’t brought up ever expecting a tragedy of this magnitude, nor were we taught how to deal with this. We said no one at our age should ever have had to go through an ordeal like this.
After our talk was over, I called my dad to tell him the horrible news. When he answered the phone I could hear it in his voice, and I knew that he knew what I was about to say. At first he didn’t know what to say it was a blanc mumble on the other end. I don’t blame him; if my son just lost one of his best friends I wouldn’t know what to say either. We talked for 45 minutes. He told me how sorry he was for me and how much he would miss John too. You know all the basic instinct comments in the Father’s handbook to make his baby boy feel comforted. He said that uncle Charles, the mans condo whom we were staying, would be bringing us home in the morning. Our conversation ended in the normal manner, but this time it had more of a meaning to it. It wasn’t just and I love you good night. That night it made we realize that every time we say, I love you good night, that now it could be the last.
Unfortunately the worst of the situation wasn’t over. It was two days later and we had to go to the funeral. As I put on my black slacks with the freshly ironed crease in them I knew that this was going to be the worst day of my life. My tie and my shoes were tied and it was time to go. I took a deep breath as I got into the car and told myself “ look Tylor you got to be tuff for Mrs. Glade and John’s little brothers, there counting on you”. I told myself this for the fifteen-minute car ride to the funeral home, which for some reason seemed to be an hour that day. When we arrived I saw all my friends in parking lot and their tears were flowing like blood from a fresh wound. I tried my hardest to not make eye contact because I knew if I did my mine would be flowing too. As my family and I got in line to pay our respects to the family, little did I know that the realization of John’s death would soon hit me like a hammer.