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John-Henry Cottrell's avatar

One of the hardest things I have ever done was inform a mother he son had passed away from a drunk driver colliding into him.

Kid had just gotten home from a combat tour in Fallujah, Iraq. Mom was ecstatic when he came home. He was on leave for less than two weeks, he was driving home other car ran through a red light three times the speed limit.

His drivers license only had our unit address, so police contacted Camp Pendleton, and they contacted me by 2am, since I was his platoon sergeant. Police wanted his address, but I told them I'll take care of it. Got up into my blues and drove 2 hrs. I can still clearly remember his mother dropping to her knees and her screams.... I stayed with her, but felt so powerless. It was one of the hardest drives out and home I have ever needed to do.

I have zero tolerance for drunk driving...

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Bill's avatar

It broke my heart when I first heard about Khyree’s death, along with his two high school buddies. Three families in unimaginable grief. My neighbors across the street just lost their 15 yr old daughter to a tragic dirt bike accident on a nearby country gravel road. All so senseless, all so tragic. And, of course, there will be more.

What we can do is reach out to those in proximity to us. No words need to be said. Just show up, cry, hug, listen. It’s part of being a member of the human race to grieve with those who grieve. Someday, your turn and my turn will inevitably come to grieve a loss and the hope is others will show up for us, not with cheap slogans or uninvited advice, instead just a simple, “I’m here, you’re not alone.”

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