- Dad - carrying a large white cross
- Son - carrying a tool box
- Mom - walking many paces behind.
Mom didn't want to be there. I could tell. Nor would I, realizing what they were doing.
They were planting a roadside cross.
I drive by it every day, and there is another in the small clearing to let us know that two families were devastated by an event. But it's the family I saw, as I slipped around the bend and headed further north, that stays with me.
It's impossible to imagine them, in their grief, going through this ritual of remembrance yet I can understand their need to remember, and to make sure others don't forget. THIS PLACE IS DANGEROUS. YOU CAN DIE HERE. LOOK WHAT HAS HAPPENED HERE - TAKE CARE the roadside crosses tell us. They also say WE LOVED THIS PERSON - PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE OUR LOSS.
Which I do, daily, as I drive home. He was a young man, about the age of my brother Matt. He looked like a handsome young man. They've put his picture and name on the cross since that first day but I don't know when.
I think about Bobby a lot, when I see this cross - especially yesterday on the anniversary of the plane crash. I hope his family found their way to remembrance that eased their pain, and that they know that we all loved him too - and sadly acknowledge and grieve for their loss still.
And yes, bacon and cheese still make everything better.
We all still miss you Bobby.