About a week or so ago, there was a pretty bad car accident out near a town called Byron. A little boy, named Dawson was killed as a result. I was in a relatively good mood until I came across that in the paper. I mean, I didn't know him or his family (that I know of at least) and I knew he didn't survive, but it still just breaks my heart. That poor little baby. I know more about the details than I care to divulge for personal and professional reasons and I think that may have me a bit more choked up than normal, though I get choked up when I read the obituaries and come across one for a child anyway. Hell, I was going through the obits once in Junior High and I came across a memorial poem for a child. I still have it in my purse to this day. His name was Houston Michael Griffin. I didn't know him or his family either, but that poem just ripped out my heart. He was just shy of 2 months old when he passedon October 20, 1994. Here is the poem, since I'm like that and all.
The Red Headed Angel
The memories stand still of that cool fall day
Seems like yesterday
So small and helpless you struggled to hold on
Your pain revealed through those tiny blue eyes
Only God could heal your pain
We tried hard not to be selfish
For we knew your time was near
If love alone could have saved you
You never would have died
But the Lord had bigger plans for you
When you left us you took a piece of our hearts
I try to remember what Daddy said
"God gave us two because he was taking one away"
Please watch over Mommy and Daddy from above
For they grieve deeply
Hopefully your mommy and Daddy will heal one day
They are wonderful people
And one day
We will meet again
And I will take you into my arms
And kiss you all over
Love and Kisses and a big truck from Hunter
Reading that again, I'm not sure if it was a poem or a note written from a child to the brother he barely knew, but it still makes me cry.
I also came across this little excerpt I cut off of The Detroit News the same day, if memory serves. I was reading a story about an accident and this part just stuck with me.
Jolliffie died two blocks from her red and white brick home on Junction at about the same time her daughter, DarQuisia Eubanks, 3, bolted upright in bed, saying, "I want my mommy", said Elerson, who was baby-sitting for the child at the time of the crash.
"That will stay with me forever," she said.
It probably makes me look psycho by admitting that I kept these things about people I didn't even know, but oh well. I'm not sure why I carry these around with me. Hell, I'm surprised I haven't lost them actually. I've had these for round about 11 years now and they're in neat perfect condition. They've been kept in countless purses and read and reread I don't know how many times. I'm gonna have to perform home lamination on them soon I think.
Sorry if I bummed anyone out. I just really felt an urge to post those things.
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