Some times are much sadder than others

There have been a lot of tears around here since a week ago Wednesday night. Last year I had 12 seminary students. Six of them graduated, some went off to college (2 to BYU and 1 to BYU-Idaho) and the others stayed here. The two boys who stayed were working to pay for their missions. It was a good group of kids.

Last Wednesday night the bishop called to tell me one of them, Dustin, had been killed in a motorcycle accident on the way home from work. He had gotten the bike less than two weeks earlier. He hadn't been speeding, there were no drugs or alcohol, the roads were dry, he wasn't doing anything crazy--he just was inexperienced. His brother was following him in the pickup, and saw him lose control on a curve. Dustin left the road, hit a tree, broke his neck. Tim, his brother, had just come back from his mission a few months ago. He reached Dustin, was able to administer to him, but Dustin never regained consciousness.

Bishop wanted me to be prepared for the kids on Thursday morning with an appropriate "lesson". I immediately called Dad for help. On our shelves are books he used as a bishop. One of those is by Elder Russell M. Nelson, The Gateway We Call Death. I took the time to read it overnight and shared much of it with the students who came. We are still mourning.

Needless to say, the ward has been deeply affected by this. Dustin's dad is our Elder's Quorum President. His mom is my closest friend here. We are VT companions and worked together in Primary. Melinda used to teach seminary and subbed for me several times last year. She had come over here with her youngest, Aaron (11), right after I broke my leg and they vacuumed my whole house. Dustin is the one who put in all our driveway pavers.

The funeral was yesterday. It was amazing. The family had chosen to donate his usable organs. He was a state champion wrestler, and in excellent shape. The casket was closed, so there was no viewing, just visitation that started an hour before the service at the ward building. Dad and I got there a half hour early and stood in line for over an hour to get into the building. The line stretched around to the back of the building. Cars were being parked in the side and back fields. The rain stopped for the time we were all standing outside. The actual service started over an hour late. There were over 650 people who stayed, many left because it was taking so long. Close to a hundred went to the graveside, driving for over an hour to the cemetery.

The lesson is there is no way to know what is out there for any of us. All we can do is love each other and say so frequently. Never let the last words between you be angry or hurtful. Live so you will have no regrets regardless of what happens.