Wednesday, December 14, 2005

grief

Brian Barazzai…was a kid I used to know, and who was a really good guy. A drunk driver killed Brian Barazzai when he was 19, it happened on a rainy night of a tropical storm while he was driving a motorcycle with his brother Kevin riding on the back. The drunk driver crossed the yellow line and came right for Brian, driving in the oncoming lane. Brian slid to avoid getting hit by the car, and his brother Kevin flew off of the back of the motorcycle and over the hood of the car, and deflected off the wet out-of-control vehicle. Kevin suffered minor injuries, a broken jaw and neck, some bruises, but mostly intact. Brian, unfortunately, was run over by the car and killed, hopefully instantly. I think Brian died in 1991. Brian was 19 when he was killed. Kevin was 17, the same age as me. I worked with Brian and Kevin’s mother, Amy, at Kentucky Fried Chicken for 5 years, from the time I was 16 until I was 21. I can’t even believe to this day I worked there that long, it’s surreal. I recently saw Kevin on an episode of “Judge Joe Brown” or someone where Kevin was suing and won against someone who negotiated buying a motorcycle from him, then wouldn’t pay him after he received the motorcycle. Additionally, the person who Kevin was suing damaged the motorcycle, and it was undrivable or something. I couldn’t believe it was Kevin on the television; I was stunned for the entire proceeding. Not that I’ve talked to him in years, at least 12. I’m glad he won his case, nothing worse then going on national television and making an ass out of yourself, or even worse getting yelled at by the judge. Brian was a great friend, watched out for me, was always around to defend me if a bad situation seemed like it was going to transpire, and was fun. I felt really bad when Brian died, I couldn’t bring myself to go to his funeral, although I visited his gravesite once. One time Brian and I were on acid, and had to sneak into his house late at night, like 4 in the morning. We had to creep past Amy sleeping in an armchair to the lullaby of the barely audible television, just so Brian could get a pack of cigarettes because he bought a carton and didn’t want to purchase a renegade pack. I can’t believe Brian disappeared so instantly; it was so unreal. It broke my heart watching how it broke his mother’s heart, and Kevin was really upset too, but Amy lost it on some level. She started having dreams that Brian was talking to her. She told me one time that Brian told her in her dream to go to the Laundromat, and look in the second bottom dryer at the end of the aisle, and there would be a Kennedy half dollar in there for he. Sure enough, she went to the Laundromat after she woke up, and voila! in the bottom second dryer at the end of the aisle was the referenced Kennedy half dollar. While telling me this, she proudly showed her find to me, but the muted silver Kennedy head clutched in her small hands symbolized so much more then a dream, it was a solid representation of sorrow, the embodiment of her grief.

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