A Missed Opportunity
Olympia, Washington
August, 1992
I remember the first time I saw a dead body. It’s burned into my memory forever, I think.
I was walking with my best friend Adam to the local quickie mart. We were eleven years old and the summer was filled with scouring for loose change under sofa cushions and taking our findings to the store to buy candy. On this particular day we were approached by a homeless man before we made it halfway to the store. He was dirty, old, and close enough to death that we could almost see his soul departing his body. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes were wide and empty saucers, and his lips were the cool blue color of the summer sky.
“Spare any change?” he barely croaked through toothless gums and cracked lips. I put my hand to the front pocket of my jeans and felt the few quarters, dimes, and nickels that were soon to be exchanged for lollipops, Hershey bars, and a can of Coke. My heart caught in my throat.
I’m not a bad person. I swear I’m not. Most days I would have given the guy all the change I had… But whether it was because I was hungry for sugar or that the man looked like no amount of change would ever turn his luck, I said, “No. Sorry.” And Adam and I walked on.
We got our candy. We got our Coke. We were happy about this.
On the way back home, was saw two police cars with their flashers on and a strip of yellow tape hung between a few trees on the side of the road. We approached cautiously, each of us already knowing what had happened.
In the space of time after we left the man and when we had returned, he had died in the ditch, someone had called the cops, and they were now taking pictures of his body.
We saw him lying face down in the scotch broom and ferns. He was only slightly less alive than when we had seen him before, and one-hundred percent gone.
I’ve never felt so guilty over anything in my life. Even though I know it wouldn’t have helped him survive another day, my giving him all the change I had (a measly dollar something) might have given him some hope at least.
I still lie awake nights and think of him. His black eyes and blue lips will haunt me forever, I think.
Peter
