One Year Ago

One year ago, I was getting ready for bed, picking up around the house and loading the dishwasher. My phone rang. I was shocked and immediately concerned. It was 9:30; no one calls me after 8. It was my cousin. "Have you talked to your mom or dad tonight?" "No, why. What's wrong." "It's Walter. He was in an accident. I don't think it's good." "What do you mean?" "An accident while driving home." Silence. And then I went for my laptop. It didn't take me long to find the article. I read it aloud. "Say that again," she said. "The driver was 21." "How old was Walter." "21." And we cried. Hard. Uncontrollably.

I sent her the link and she read it to her mom. We cried more. I hung up and called home. My brother answered. "What happened?" "It's not good. Aunt and Uncle are at the hospital. Mom and Dad are at their house." He was quiet. Not his usual angry quiet, but a contemplative quiet. We knew. We didn't want to know. My mom called. "I'm sorry." And we cried. Hard. Uncontrollably.

I went upstairs and woke my husband. I couldn't talk. I could only hiccup and gasp and try to tell what I knew. "I'm sorry." And he held me as I cried silent tears.

Two days later, I made the long trip home. It was quiet most of the way as we each thought about Walter. We drove the same stretch where he had his accident. There were skid marks on the road. An acknowledgment. A tear. I went straight to my aunt and uncle's. There were no words. There could be no words.

I sat on the couch and began going through stacks of photos - Baby Walter, Child Walter, Teen Walter, Young Man Walter. Only 21.

There was a family lunch. We were all there. We took up 5 tables. Even my brother came. It meant so much. And then it was to the funeral home. To say our good-byes. But, there were no words. There could be no words.

The line started at 4:30 and didn't diminish until 8:30. I have never experienced the amount of love and community support as I did that day. We cried. Hard. Uncontrollably.


Walter James Ramsay, Jr. died one year ago today. He was 21. He was my cousin. He touched each and every one of us. I miss him. And there are no words to describe the pain that we all feel on this day.