Reaction to the death of an eighteen year old.
So my kind-of-cousin died today. His name is Christopher and he was the son of my great-aunt Polly's stepdaughter, and Polly practically raised him. He was just slightly younger than me. A few days ago he was run over a car. His jaw was snapped in half, his chest was crushed, both arms were broken, his pelvis was broken, and I think both of his legs were crushed as well. According to my grandmother, he was unrecognizable when they brought him in. The doctors were unable to perform any sugery to recontruct these breaks because his lungs were so messed up that he couldn't breath on his own. I haven't been able to get any exact medical details because most of the family has been consumed by grief, and I haven't been pressing to heavily for information.
As we heard more about what happened, we learned that Christopher and his friends were playing some form of "chicken" when it occurred. My cousin's friend accidentally hit the gas instead of the brake and there went the rest of Christopher's life. He was eighteen.
I did not spend much time with this cousin, but when we did we got along well, what with our being the quiet braniacs in the family.
Everyone has this idea that we should say good things about the deceased. I'm afraid I'm not capable of doing that. I am too caught up in being angry at the completely stupid, ridiculous way that he died. If the boy had actually thought of the consequences of his actions before participating in such a dangerous and senseless "game", he wouldn't be dead now. It may seem cold and inhuman, but I can't feel any sympathy or sadness for him.
Mostly I feel bad for my great-aunt, who practically raised Christopher. She's devastated. Right before the accident came to pass, she had seen the boys playing the game out her front window and thought, "I hope that's not Christopher and his friends." This death coincided with her husband's first treatment for leukemia and her mother's cataract surgery. Any grief that I've been able to muster up for Christopher's death is for her.
As we heard more about what happened, we learned that Christopher and his friends were playing some form of "chicken" when it occurred. My cousin's friend accidentally hit the gas instead of the brake and there went the rest of Christopher's life. He was eighteen.
I did not spend much time with this cousin, but when we did we got along well, what with our being the quiet braniacs in the family.
Everyone has this idea that we should say good things about the deceased. I'm afraid I'm not capable of doing that. I am too caught up in being angry at the completely stupid, ridiculous way that he died. If the boy had actually thought of the consequences of his actions before participating in such a dangerous and senseless "game", he wouldn't be dead now. It may seem cold and inhuman, but I can't feel any sympathy or sadness for him.
Mostly I feel bad for my great-aunt, who practically raised Christopher. She's devastated. Right before the accident came to pass, she had seen the boys playing the game out her front window and thought, "I hope that's not Christopher and his friends." This death coincided with her husband's first treatment for leukemia and her mother's cataract surgery. Any grief that I've been able to muster up for Christopher's death is for her.