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Sunday morning as I listened to the words flowing from my daughters mouth about the death of a friend sent feelings of sadness through my soul as I heard the news. Pete had died from a brawl outside a local bar. My home a small town in northern new Hampshire. How could something like this happen in such a beautiful place. A place that homes very few residents and a place where I never locked the doors of my home never mind the doors in my car. Safe is always how I felt there, and now this?

Thoughts filled me with emotion as I heard of this young man being taken way too soon and by the hands of another. How senseless life seems to be sometimes. Alcohol dealing its own hand in this tragedy, but not just one life but also the life of those of both men who will mourn for their loss.

Although sadness fills my heart all that I can think of is that this could have very easily been one of my own kids. My youngest son Ethan visited this place regularly when he lived in North Woodstock. How easily it seems a life can be snuffed out for no apparent reason really, except for bad decisions being made. The grief that has been brought to his family and friends as a quaint town in the valley mourns the death of A man who was loved by all.

So I begin, when my son was about 16 he used to have many friends that visited our home. Some of them more than others and some I got to know more then the rest. This young man and his brother used to come to my house often to visit my kids.

Pete was a good kid but he used to come to the house and the first thing he would do is make spagettio’s. He was addicted! It didn’t matter if I was making dinner or not, into the kitchen he would come and open the cupboard, get a can and put it in the microwave for a couple minutes. Then he would disappear up the stairs into John’s room.