Warning.Graphic Video with disturbing scenes of death at the bottom of the hub.

Mortality. It may be scary, it may be hard. But I am happy to have gotten this far. It is something I have contemplated since my one and only big brother died at 17 years old. I was at the very impressionable age of 13. That was my first experience of death.

My great grandmother and my great aunt, and their ancient neighbor out lived my hero. He was smart. He was strong and healthy. He died before any of his plans came to fruition. How could this happen? What was life? What was death? How could anyone so purely good die? At no fault of his own.

The circumstances surrounding his death were a mystery. The autopsy was inconclusive. Our pediatrician did not accept the results, so performed one as well. Finding absolutely nothing, brought in the best specialist she could find. Still nothing.

That created many questions in the mind of a sheltered 13 year old boy. I went numb within 20 seconds of finding out, and stayed that way for two years. The whole time, I knew how to respond to people and situations in basic ways, but it was like I was on auto pilot. The entire time  the back of my mind was working on, how, why, what, what if, how and more whats, all the while trying to hide from the pain.

 I eventually wanted desperately to feel something. Anything.  Anything but the searing pain that is.  That led me down many paths. Mostly unhealthy ones. Un safe ones. It almost caused my own death so many times I could not count one tenth of them. I liked to live to the extreme. Pushing things, harder, faster, living on the edge. And I did.

One day I got a newspaper clipping from my Nana. She was always sending me clips of articles that she cut out. Fishing in Lake George CO, bird watching in Kansas, gem shows she had been to. This one was different. It was from Dear Abby.

 I thought “What the hell?” I was far too cool for Dear Abby. But I read on. Some one had lost a loved one in a car accident and asked her to re-publish a story that she had run before. It is a story that affected me. Slowed me down. It is this story I would like to share.

The day I died was an ordinary school day. How I wish I had taken the bus! But I was too cool for the bus. I remember how I wheedled the car out of Mom. "Special favor," I pleaded. "All the kids drive." When the 2:50 p.m. bell rang, I threw my books in the locker ... free until tomorrow morning! I ran to the parking lot, excited at the thought of driving a car and being my own boss.

It doesn't matter how the accident happened. I was goofing off ‑ going too fast, taking crazy chances. But I was enjoying my freedom and having fun. The last thing I remember was passing an old lady who seemed to be going awfully slow. I heard a crash and felt a terrific jolt. Glass and steel flew everywhere. My whole body seemed to be turning inside out. I heard myself scream.

Suddenly, I awakened. It was very quiet. A police officer was standing over me. I saw a doctor. My body was mangled. I was saturated with blood. Pieces of jagged glass were sticking out all over. Strange that I couldn't feel anything. Hey, don't pull that sheet over my head. I can't be dead. I'm only 17. I've got a date tonight. I'm supposed to have a wonderful life ahead of me. I haven't lived yet. I can't be dead.

Later I was placed in a drawer. My folks came to identify me. Why did they have to see me like this? Why did I have to look at Mom's eyes when she faced the most terrible ordeal of her life? Dad suddenly looked very old. He told the man in charge, "Yes, he's our son."

The funeral was weird. I saw all my relatives and friends walk toward the casket. They looked at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen. Some of my buddies were crying. A few of the girls touched my hand and sobbed as they walked by.

Please, somebody ‑ wake me up! Get me out of here. I can't bear to see Mom and Dad in such pain. My grandparents are so weak from grief they can barely walk. My brother and sister are like zombies, yhey move like robots. In a daze. Everybody. No one can believe this. I can't believe it, either.Please, don’t bury me! I'm not dead! I have a lot of living to do! I want to laugh and run again. I want to sing and dance. Please‑don't put me in the ground! I promise if you give me just one more chance, God, I'll be the most careful driver in the whole world. All I want is one more chance. Please, God, I'm only 17.

I remembered after my Big Brother died, I “walked around like a Zombie”. I realized that I could easily kill myself or someone else. I could not stand to put anyone else through the grief that had torn me to the center of my being. If you know anyone who is young and driving, please share the above story with them. No matter how “good” they seem to be, they may act wild away from home. Quite often it is the honor student, the Boy Scout or other “Good Kids” that die from wild driving, or drinking and driving. It may just save a life.

And Please remember to buckle up.

Disturbing footage in the video below.