It was late spring when they told me John was dead. It seemed like hours past as I tried to speak. How, why, when I asked; it was a tractor accident he was driving and there was another kid on it with him when the tractor rolled over and both boys died.
I hadn’t seen John in some time, and now I realized that I never would again. What would I say to him if I had a chance, I didn’t know, but I knew I would have loved the chance.
I went to the funeral home and John’s brother and parents were there. His brother and I talked for a long time. I remember his tears….
Not long afterwards Harlan turned seventeen. He stopped by to see me while I was working on my Grandma’s house. He was lean and strong, and not the fat little boy that I once knew. He had dropped out of school and gone to work for his Dad as a roofer.
He had moved in with a girl and talked about how great life was. It had been at least a year since I’d seen him. I remember how different he seemed.
He was eager to talk about John… we did. I knew this was a chance for me to talk about God; I tried, he resisted. I could tell we both were sorry we hadn’t stayed the three musketeers. I could read the pain in his eyes, it was the same pain I saw when they removed Randal’s legs. There were no words to speak about the distance between us. I knew we would both change the past if we could… but we couldn’t.
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