Hold Everything Lightly #10 {The Third Lesson}

Dion, a twenty one year old man working for a newspaper in Alabama, had been at the Sheraton all night drinking. He got in his Camaro and drove down the Gordon Highway in Augusta, Georgia. The highway has four lanes divided by an expansive grass median. Freddie, forty two, a welder,  was working the night shift for the railroad,  had gotten off work at five am and was giving a buddy a ride home. Freddies's pick up truck was a vintage 1967 Chevy and he loved it dearly. It was old and beat up but it suited him just fine. He often helped folks out and giving a guy a ride home was not unusual. He was alone in the truck when Dion crossed three lanes of traffic, the grass median, and hit Freddie head on.

I was off work that early Friday morning and saw the TV news report about an accident on the Gordon Highway. I paid no attention to it until the phone rang. It was my Big Sis and she told me Freddie had been killed by a drunk driver.  She asked me to drive to our mother's house and tell her in person. I do not remember telling mother, nor much of that day. My daddy went to the emergency room and identified his broken body.  Daddy and I picked out new jeans and a jean shirt with buttons that snapped because that is what my brother wore nearly every day. Burying him in a suit would have been five kinds of wrong. Buying those clothes was one of the most difficult tasks I have ever been asked to do. That was the moment the enormity of our loss hit me. Freddie was beloved by many and the funeral home was packed with people for his service. 

Freddie was six feet two inches tall,  with blonde hair and blue eyes.

 When he was a teen and I a tween we were often mistaken for two girls, from behind, because he had gorgeous long hair. He was quiet and sweet. He walked away from confrontation. If a fight started at our house (and they often occurred), he walked out the door. He taught me how to drive a stick shift. I nearly stripped out his clutch but he was patient with me. He was seven years older than me but we were pals. At the time of his death he lived three houses down from mother and would do anything at all she needed. She was never the same after his loss. His one fault was he was a He Man with She Problems. He constantly picked the wrong women to date or marry. 

He was too sweet and they invariably took advantage of him.

He had a nineteen year old son and his life forever changed that day too.

 Because Freddie was going home from work my nephew inherited a lot of insurance money. A grief stricken nineteen year old can get into a heap of trouble with a lot of money and he did just that. Freddie's son looks so much like him, sometimes it hurts to look at him. My brother would kick his sons butt if he were with us now.

The funeral was just the beginning of the whole process because the state had to prosecute  Dion. Going to court with my parents was not for cowards. Daddy was popping nitroglycerin pills for chest pain. Mama was taking Valium. It was more than this registered nurse could take. I did not go to court  the second time Dion appeared. Turns out I was a coward after all. To my parents credit, they forgave Dion and he served only three years for vehicular homicide. My Big Sis was not so forgiving and he better hope never to meet her. Forgiveness freed my parents to move on.

I have a photo of Freddie with CC, when she was two in my kitchen where 

I see it every day and it makes me smile and ache for him. 

He loved her so much and I loved him all the more for loving my premature baby.

 Freddie's death was my third lesson in holding everything lightly.

"Hold everything in your hands lightly, otherwise it hurts, when God pries your fingers open."

---Corrie Ten Boom 1892-1983

To read other parts in this series click on the series title in Pages at the top of the page.

thank you for reading

Olive