I drove out to the gravel road that had taken my friend’s life. It was a single car accident in which she struck loose gravel and rolled her brown, Ford Escape SUV multiple times. She was not wearing her seatbelt and was ejected through her sunroof. I put my vehicle in park and stepped onto the loose pieces of rock. The towing company had taken her vehicle, but they had not picked up all the pieces. Bits of yellow reflective lights were mixed in with the shattered pieces of red brake lights. All over the ground were pieces of broken glass. The road itself had a scar of where the car rolled multiple times. I walked a distance in the grass on the side of the road until a glimpse of sunlight reflected from something on the ground that
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Painstakingly looking at each board, only selecting the best pieces of wood. He fired up his table saw and carefully cut two pieces of wood. He then turned the boards and added two careful notches on the separate pieces of board so that they could fit together, making a cross. The smell of the cut wood did not bring relief to me, nor did the mounds of sawdust. He took the rough, jagged edges of the sand paper and smoothed the edges and sides. I watched through tearful eyes as my dad neatly glued and hammered the two pieces of board together to create the large wooden cross. He continued to smooth out the section where the two boards met until it looked like one, complete piece of wood. It was almost finished except my dad wanted to add a point at the base so we could easily put it into the ground. He kept repeating, “I shouldn’t be doing this, I shouldn’t have to do this.” The idea of making a cross for a dead teenager really bothered my dad, but he knew how much it would mean to my friends, Kelly’s family, and me. My dad put the finishing touches on the cross with tears in his eyes and looked at me with pure sympathy. He held up the cross and said, “I hope this will work for now”. When we pounded the cross into the soft ground, my father didn’t even want to go see it. It was the only project he wasn’t proud
Painstakingly looking at each board, only selecting the best pieces of wood. He fired up his table saw and carefully cut two pieces of wood. He then turned the boards and added two careful notches on the separate pieces of board so that they could fit together, making a cross. The smell of the cut wood did not bring relief to me, nor did the mounds of sawdust. He took the rough, jagged edges of the sand paper and smoothed the edges and sides. I watched through tearful eyes as my dad neatly glued and hammered the two pieces of board together to create the large wooden cross. He continued to smooth out the section where the two boards met until it looked like one, complete piece of wood. It was almost finished except my dad wanted to add a point at the base so we could easily put it into the ground. He kept repeating, “I shouldn’t be doing this, I shouldn’t have to do this.” The idea of making a cross for a dead teenager really bothered my dad, but he knew how much it would mean to my friends, Kelly’s family, and me. My dad put the finishing touches on the cross with tears in his eyes and looked at me with pure sympathy. He held up the cross and said, “I hope this will work for now”. When we pounded the cross into the soft ground, my father didn’t even want to go see it. It was the only project he wasn’t proud