George happens usually in the winter. He sat behind me in French class in high school. Cute, personable, funny without being obnoxious.
During a winter storm that year he was walking with a friend. A truck slid out of control. George pushed his friend to safety. He was killed.
Every now and then I say a quick prayer for his family. For even though it has been over 30 years, the death/life of a child/loved one is not forgotten by the family who loved them most.
It affected me a little differently though. On snowy nights, if everyone was not home, I would worry. Worry for the person who was walking home. Not wanting to ever walk in the snow myself on a busy road unless absolutely necessary.
Wednesday it was necessary. I had husband's car, he had mine (long story). At 12:30 the sleet came down so fast and furious that I knew the car would not make it home so I got a ride with a coworker. Her check engine light came on (she didn't seem as concerned as I was) so I had her drop me off a mile from home. And I started to walk. The road can be busy and is twisty turny - with a couple of not so gentle slopes. No shoulder to walk on. As I walked I thought of George and realized that I was doing fine. If a car came I paid attention and stood in driveways/dead grass. No panic here.
Then a car came up and a woman yelled out. "Want a ride?" I almost said no but she looked so earnestly at me that I said sure and got in for the rest of the way home.