  Death Becomes Her It never ceases to amaze me how death can creep into the mundane. You would think that after having my peace shattered by death so many times I would come to expect it. Or, that I would be tensely coiled, waiting for death to bump into me as I rounded the corner. But I wasn't. I guess I’ve become complacent. Death hasn't affected me in such a long time that I forgot what a constant it was in my life for the last 27 years.
I forgot how easily it could renew my acquaintance. I forgot how it can appear, like a former lover, when you are at your most sloppy comfortable and completely shake your confidence and rattle your nerve. My boss, Ken, and his Chief Assistant, Greg, were in a car accident yesterday. The news placed it in the driest terms possible: Early Tuesday afternoon, the SUV Hodges was driving hydroplaned into oncoming traffic near Cordele. It rolled several times, and five other cars and a tractor-trailer were involved in the wreck. Hodges and Edwards were both ejected.
What this report didn't explain was how devastated our office was. An hour and a half away, we were spoon-fed information as to their condition, which fluctuated between dire to cautiously optimistic. It didn't explain why I cried for so long when I finally made my way home. How I sat in my bathroom and sobbed out a prayer for them, for these kind men and their families; a prayer for a son not to lose his father, for a wife not to lose her husband, for a mother not to lose her son, for a fiancée not to lose her groom.
Nor did it explain how much of a family these two men had become to me, a person without family of friends in Albany: a girl that was very far away from home. Each one of them showed me immeasurable kindness, kindness that went beyond a boss or a co-worker.
Ken and his fiancée rented me her place and later fire sold all of her furniture to me when I found a place of my own. Ken even brought me a housewarming gift. Greg has been like a father to me here. When my transmission died he lent me his car for a month so that I wouldn't have to rent one. He and I have worked side by side on cases and in that time he has given me his support, his trust, and his encouragement. These are not people that needed to die yet, but I’m sure that’s what everyone says about the people they love and then lose. I wasn't ready to lose these people to death just yet. We weren’t ready to lose these people. And fortunately, we're not going to. They're doing well considering they went 10 rounds with a semi.
And although neither one of them will be winning beauty pageants anytime soon (Ken is missing some teeth, Greg had surgery on his eye, and both have pretty severe facial lacerations), they are in good health and may be back in Albany by Thursday. But this moment in time has shaken me. It's death's way of reminding us how easily it can reacquaint himself with us .
. .
how easily it can open the door and walk back in. I won’t forget so soon again. 
