The snow squall encompassed everything in my world at that moment. Visibility was past tense. The wind was wicked, constantly shifting direction and changing in intensity. The motor was starting to sputter as gas was being consumed far faster than ever before. When it stalled, I guided my Yamaha 650 motorcycle to the side of the road as safely as possible.
To this day I feel responsible for another students’ death. It was an accident but haunts me still. Being alone on a cold wintry stretch of Wyoming road made me think of him. Just last week, while writing, I think he visited me. Though even now my ripped brain still won’t allow me to fully accept the presence of ghosts. Being analytical in nature I tend to think of ghosts as an image within our own mind, like a projector gone wild. The image is real to me, but is it ‘real’ in everyday sense? Why my Soft Coated Wheaton terrier, Ms. Bea, chases one, well, I can’t explain that. Death and life go hand in hand, but having to be the one to place a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) order on one of your parents is tough. Being involved with the DNR for your sister, tougher still. Later in life I would be able to save lives, but it never makes up for the one I feel I cost. Until last week, the ghost that I see, other than the one in the foreword, is always the same; a thin tall man wearing a hat. Picture a crisp dark shadow of a man on the pavement during a bright day, and then pull the shadow up so it is standing upright. That is how ‘Fred’ appears; he is not transparent. Now I think that if ghosts do exist, this new ghost that I see is the student. Like Fred, he never gives off negative energy and somehow I am comforted by their presence. It is as if they are looking out for me. I tried to save one life, but failed.
