I hung up the phone and continued to dry my hair. "Damn," I thought as the news sank in more. As I rushed around the condo, my memory traveled to and event that happened years and years ago, but it changed my life completely.

The name of the street I grew up on was Five Point Hwy. The reason I lived there was because my mom and I were shacking up with her boyfriend, Lee. Lee had grown up in the house we lived in. His three best friends all lived within 5 miles of each other. There was Alan Shumaker and Allen Tirrell, the farmers and then Kevin Fullerton, the fire chief. They all played softball together and I remember spending a lot of time at their homes as a youngster. Allen and Alan were so close they ended up marrying Cindy and Sharon, sisters. Not their sisters...watch it.... They also divorced these sisters and remarried.

1988 was a rough year. My friend Kim had died in March (just for your reference, I knew Kim because Cindy married her Kim's father). I had also started going to Charlotte Jr. High, which I hated. The weather was bleak in November and I remember watching the snow fall from Cindy's living room window in Jackson. The phone rang and Karen, Kim's sister, answered. She came into the living room in shock.

"Allen Tirrell died."

I couldn't comprehend her words. "Allen Tirrell...as in Uncle Allen?" We had always called him that.

It was true. The second horrible part was that he died on Five Point Hwy...a mile from my house. Cindy told us to pack our stuff because she was taking us home early. The events of the day unfolded as we drove back to Charlotte.

We don't know why Allen was driving east on Five Point. It was early, early morning when he crashed. We also never found out why...but we knew where: the little country bridge, just before Brookfield Road. His truck hit the cement pillar of the little bridge. He flew forward into the windshield and his life was over.

Kevin, the other best friend of the group, arrived on the scene afterward. He was the first one. The way I remember it was that Kevin didn't realize it was Allen's truck. He didn't recognize his best friend slumped over the steering wheel. Being a firefighter, he called the authorities but the jaws of life had to be used to pull Allen out. When Kevin realized who the victim was...well, I was never told that part of the story.

The funeral was sad. Allen's wife, 2 year-old son and 1-year-old daughter were there. His whole family and all of his friends were there, too. Yeah, two devastating funerals in one year for all of them. Allen had helped carry Kim's casket.

The accident was crazy close to where I lived. If you can view this map, you'll see Brookfield Road and then to the left, the third house down on the right, was mine. We rode our bikes down there in the spring, finding pieces of broken glass, plastic, remnants from a horrible day. But it also changed my life directly. After the accident, Lee spent most of his free time in the bar, not coming home to us. My mom was finally tired of it all and that following summer, we left. It probably would have happened anyway, but his death was the catalyst.

I thought about all of this as I drove into work today. When I got to work, I didn't search the name Allen Tirrell. I searched the name Duane Tirrell and found this article on LSJ.com:

Charlotte man was devoted to land--Duane Tirrell died doing what he loved: farming

So, now Allen's brother is gone now, too. My prayers go to a family who has lost so much.