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In the eighth grade at highschool we we placed into contacts according to our surnames. Your school might’ve called them houses, or fraternities, I don’t know. Being a Clark, I was thrown in with the B’s and C’s, in a contact called 8B. Scott Chan was one of the first friends I made in highschool. A really friendly guy; fun to hang with, bursting with charisma and smarts. He went on to become head boy of our school in the twelfth grade, and now at UWA he’s president of the Ecoms Committee. He’s still one of my best friends, and you might remember that we celebrated his birthday just a few days ago.

Last night, driving through his own neighborhood with his girlfriend Rose, Scotty’s car was hit by another. Some guy ran a red light. Now Rose is dead. She was one of the most beautiful, friendly, talented, amazing women I’ve ever met; and I know that Scotty loved her more than life itself; but now she’s gone. She had to die because some moron wanted to get home quickly .

And all I can do is sit here and cry my goddamned eyes out.


The news has been reporting Rose’s death as just another Easter Road Toll statistic, and I suppose it is. All those times I’ve seen weeping relatives and friends in television commercials telling us to drive safely; telling us that even though we think they’re just statistics, they’re real people with real families and friends. It never hits home. I can’t begin to describe to you how this feels and I suppose only the people who have lost loved ones, regardless of the circumstance, can ever know.

For all of us, it’s been one of the most grueling days in recent memory. We haven’t even seen Scotty yet, but I’ve spent all day with the guys and we’ve just been talking the whole time. The “what ifs” and the “remember whens” just don’t stop. I can barely wait to see Scott, even though I know I don’t want to see him like this. Just so he knows we’re here. Just so he knows how much we all love him.