These were fun years that I would never forget. We grasped our diplomas and headed out into the world.
That night we had our project graduation, which is this night of dancing and bowling that the school put on each year for the graduates. With my friend, Matt, I headed out to find the guys before the doors were locked on the project. I met up with Ryan and the guys at a friend's house. They were on their way to the project and already in the car. While climbing into the car, Ryan dropped a beer that he shouldn't have had anyway. Matt's mom was coming out to the car and knowing that she would be upset if she saw it, he asked me to get it and put it in my car; I did it and saved his butt. He told me as he was leaving that he owed me a favor and he"d pay me back.
Two days after graduation I went out with my girlfriend and a couple of friends. We were at the bowling alley, and I was doing great. Then we got the call. Ryan was dead, killed instantly, when he crossed the yellow line and smashed into a dump truck. I ran to the bathroom and hung my head over a toilet, vomiting violently. I couldn't believe it. My friend was not dead, my friend was not dead; I kept saying in my head. People said that he fell asleep behind the wheel, and others said alcohol, but Ryan never drove drunk and he knew that was irresponsible. It turned out that he did fall asleep, sleep that cost him his life. We left the bowling alley and went to Ryan's mom's house to offer our condolences. I tried to hold my tears in; I wanted to be strong. When I spotted Ryan's mom I couldn't maintain my front. I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
I had plenty of time to reflect before the wake and the funeral. Ryan, the student body president, would never get a chance to go to Chapel Hill and fulfill his dreams; never have a wife .
and kids, and never have the chance to get old with friends. I sat and thought about this at one of my favorite places, a place where Ryan and I had spent many days, the baseball field at the school.