Good Kid

“My son was such a good kid.” she’d said.
“I’m sure he was.”

Over the years, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said this. The truth was, I didn’t know if her son was a good kid or not. What I did know was that he was the drunk driver responsible for killing a young mother and her 10 year old daughter two nights before.

Maybe he was a good kid, and he really did just make a mistake.

A big one.

The kind you can’t take back.

I sat with Brent’s mother for several hours— well through what should have been my lunch break. She showed me pictures of Brent as a kid, told me stories of how he loved to play baseball, and laughed through her tears when she recalled the pranks he would pull on his younger siblings.

It was my favorite part of the arrangement meetings, getting to know the story behind the person, making them more than a body with a toe tag.

Eventually, the meeting came to an end, the paperwork was signed, and it was time for her to go.

I walked her to the door and opened it for her. I could already see my next appointment getting out of his car and walking towards the building.

He was a young man, who had just lost his wife and daughter to a drunk driving accident 2 nights prior.

I extended my hand to greet him.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

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