Thursdays and Fridays

by Michael Thorn Email

Thursdays and Fridays are the worse days of the week for me. Although I am not as manic about it in the last few weeks. In the beginning all I could do was watch the clock and try to imagine where Joel was on May 14 and 15 (Thursday the 14th and Friday the 15th). I tried and tried to map out a time line of his journey. Many times I'd drive the route I thought he would have taken as I couldn't sit still alone at home. He had apparently left school around 1:20 and was missing until the next morning. Twenty hours without food. It rained five inches that night. He was cold, wet, and hungry. Friday, May 15th at 9:30, Joel was crossing Hwy 17 and was killed instantly as he was struck by a tractor trailer. He apparently lay in a pool of blood for hours while the road was shut down and the Highway Patrol did their investigation. It was about ten-till-one when an officer pulled up in front of my house. I thought it may have been a friend of mine with an update on Joel's whereabouts. I had phoned him the night before and told him Joel was missing. I asked him to put the word out to his fellow officers. I had hoped it was him pulling up but those hopes turned instantly to dread as the officer put on his hat and got out of the patrol car. It wasn't my friend and I knew when an officer put on his hat he was there on official business The officer knocked on the door with a clipboard in hand with Joel's picture on it. He said, "Joel was in an accident. He did not make it." I began to tremble and then was too weak to stand. Panic set in. Confusion set in. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. It seemed that time slowed. I sat down on the front step and thought there had to be a way to fix this. There must be a way to fix this.

When I dropped Joel off at school on the 14th I would have never imagined that it would be the last time I saw him alive. I often wonder if he had said anything I should have picked up on that morning; some sort of clue. My memory is that it was the same as every other morning.