Ten years ago I fell in love in the way that only 19-year-olds can. Brandon was handsome, charming, funny, and obsessed with music--he loved everything from the Jackson 5 to Johnny Cash. We spent hours talking while driving along winding Kentucky back roads and listening to U2. (The Best of 1980-1990 album had just been released.) Other friends will remember other things about Brandon, but I remember his beautiful smile, his easygoing spirit, and the way he made sure to tell me that he thought I was beautiful at any and every opportunity.
We were in love, so the obvious next step was to make the entire world aware of our love. We decided to go on a road trip to Brandon's home town, so I could meet his parents. Our visit was over Easter Weekend. We left on Thursday afternoon after I had (finally) finished a Spanish exam. I remember the 10+ hour drive just like I remember the rest of my times with him. We had so much fun. We laughed, sang, and listened to a lot of Johnny Cash.
My next memory is of flashing ambulance lights, a neck brace, and being placed on a stretcher. Ten years later I still have no memory of the accident, although I was told that we were trapped in the car for over an hour. It wasn't for several hours that I would learn that Brandon had died in the ambulance while we were being transferred to Savannah.
Brandon died on Good Friday, 1999. His funeral was on Easter Sunday.
Every Easter season I remember Brandon and our time together, and I mourn his death. I think about what knowing him meant for me, and how his death changed me.
Brandon's death was one of the most significant events of my life, but ten years later, my first response to remembering the trauma is gratitude.
I am so grateful for a God who works in the midst of suffering. God showed himself to me in the midst of great pain and heartache, and I have grown to know him so much more deeply as a result of my heartache. I do not believe that God made this happen, just like I don't believe that God makes any suffering happen. There are so many in our world who have lost so much more than I have, and who have hurt much more deeply than I did. I believe in a compassionate God who longs to meet us in our suffering and show his face to us.
Arriving at a place of gratitude has not been an easy process. I still struggle as a result of the accident. I fear that I might lose a loved one again. I make sure that my sons have the safest car seats I can find. I pray when someone I care about is on the road. I cling to the words of Isaiah: "For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you" (Isaiah 41:13).
My fears help me turn to Jesus and remember that he held my hand through a very difficult time. When difficult times come again, he will continue to hold my hand.
At 19, I couldn't have imagined that I would be part of such a tragedy. Car accidents are so terrible because a laughing, healthy, whole person can be broken so suddenly. The loss just seems too fast. At 19, I also couldn't have imagined the blessings I have received over the last ten years. I can't begin to write them down.
So it is with gratitude that I remember Brandon Mitchell and grieve his death this Easter Season.
Some of you reading this didn't know me ten years ago. You might not have known this was part of my story. Some of you who are reading walked beside me, prayed for me from afar, or held my hand. I am so thankful. Some of you felt his loss in your own way. I just wanted to take some time to mark the day and remember a beautiful life.
