:~:~:~:~W~:~:~:~:
The funeral was beautiful, with the sun shining high in the sky, a warm breeze flowing across the graveyard. Everyone in attendance hated the beauty of the day; it was not a day that should have been celebrated with sunshine and happiness. That day, a seventeen year old boy was buried; not even out of high school, and never having seen the world outside of Tulsa Oklahoma. The priest speaks about how wonderful the boy was, even though he knew nothing of him; he knew nothing of his drunken state, of his love of beer blasts and jumping other teens in town. The priest also knew nothing about the boy who acted out so that he could get recognition from his parents, to make them tell him the one thing he needed; he needed a 'no'. A 'stop'. A 'you're grounded'. Perhaps, just perhaps, that would have made it so that he didn't jump a young boy who had it hard at home and was so afraid of his own shadow he stabbed him to survive. Maybe then he would be alive and breathing, laughing and drinking, and loving his beautiful red-haired girlfriend. But no, that would never happen now. Robert Sheldon had died, and there was no bringing him back. His blue mustang wouldn't creep around town, he would never dance or sing, he had died. That day should not have been sunny. It was not a good day.
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Sorry about the short drabble, I just thought it was needed. As much as I love Johnny and Dallas, Bob Sheldon was just a kid himself, and he never deserved to die so young. So, here is a nod to him, and the life that he was unable to live.
~W