Roadside Memorial

We’ve all driven past small, hand-made memorials on the side of the highway, and this week I noticed a new one very near my home. Pulling off onto the grassy shoulder of the four lane road, I walked back to the cluster of items that made up the memorial. A beautiful wooden cross held a plaque that read, “Frankie L. Pipkins III, May 30, 1991, January 6, 2010.”

Frankie died at 18. I felt sick to my stomach, envisioning a horrendous car crash and a family’s shock. As I stood and studied what this young man’s loved ones had left in memory of him, I hoped maybe someone from his family might come by to visit the memorial, too. I craved more information about this teenager and wanted to ask questions of the people who loved him.

Next to the cross was a Christmas wreath decorated for the holidays with a string of red lights, silver bows and several ornaments: a pewter half-moon with an angel sitting on it next to the word “peace”, an old-fashioned Santa, and four ceramic ornaments with the words “hope, love, dream, wish.”

Also hanging from the wreath was a girl’s silver necklace with a ring on it, a pair of guy-sunglasses and two beaded necklaces with small footballs hanging from them.

Artificial sun flowers and lilies nearly hid a telling piece of the memorial. Nestled in the grass at the base of the cross was the insignia from Frankie’s vehicle. The FORD logo, still attached to a jagged piece of red metal, sent a chill up my spine. I’m not sure why anyone would place that there, but as I crouched near the ground, I saw small hunks of red metal everywhere.

Bending to pick up one piece, I realized they were all firmly embedded in the hard ground, probably driven in by the terrible impact. But just when I started to weep over this young person’s violent end, I spotted something hopeful, a note written by hand and put next to the cross:

“Psalm 115:15 – May you be blessed by the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.”

Had Frankie been raised in a home where God was lifted up and his Word taught? Did he know the Lord as his personal Savior? If he did, he’s healthy and whole in paradise, possibly shaking hands with Nate. But what about his family? Are they healthy and whole? Although we had “only” 42 days with Nate, Frankie’s family had only one instant to absorb the dreadful truth.

I gathered up several stems of Queen Anne’s lace growing nearby and laid them next to the cross. If the Pipkins family ever visited their memorial, they might be encouraged to know that someone else had stopped to think about their Frankie, too.

“Discipline yourself for the purpose of godliness, for bodily discipline is only of little profit, but godliness is profitable for all things, since it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come.” (1 Timothy 4:7-8)

5 thoughts on “Roadside Memorial

  1. I hope that someone from the Pipkins family has seen your act of kindness. God certainly did. What a wonderful reminder you gave me today to pray for the families of those who have died along the road. Hopefully many of those whose wreaths I’ve seen scattered throughout my travels are now walking the streets of gold.

  2. Hi Margaret,
    Blog after blog, you continue to reveal a depth of unusual compassion and interest in other lives around you.
    All of that perfect church attendance gave you more metal than those medals. You have used each piece of armor to stand firm in your grief, and then to walk in the shoes of the gospel of peace as your heart reaches across to so many others.
    That roadside memorial is heartbreaking and now that my daughter is 16 and driving, is a haunting reminder of how quickly the circumstances of life can change.
    What a beautiful gesture to leave behind your own bouquet that for one brief moment, it might infuse those who notice with fresh courage and strength to press on.
    Love,
    Terry

  3. Sadly, two young men died in that crash (I googled the name and found a few articles about it). They were both 18. Loss has a way of binding us closer to people we don’t even know. Thank you for your thoughtful post.

  4. It’s getting so that I automatically reach for a tissue when I click on your blog…………tears, but wonderful, sympathetic tears.