This I Can Do

It was six weeks ago this week on Tuesday. I was sitting in my classroom having lunch, while trying to get caught up on some grading. I heard my cell phone signal that I had an unheard message waiting. I unlocked my drawer, took out my cell phone and saw that my husband had called. He never calls during the day, but, I knew he was “on sight” for work and wouldn’t be able to email. I dialed the number to get my voice mail.

I was horrified by his message: “Shane was killed in a car accident last night. I don’t know any more details. We’ll talk tonight.”

At first, I was furious with him. How can you just leave a message like that on someone’s voicemail? As the content of the message sunk in, I became very quiet. How could this be true? Not Shane. Ed must have gotten it wrong. Someone is playing a cruel joke on him and he passed along the bad information to me.

Not being able to concentrate any longer, I made my way to the faculty room where many of my colleagues were having lunch. I sat at a table with some of my teammates who were having a lively conversation about the up coming WASL testing. They took one look at me and immediately asked what was wrong. I told them.

A fifth grade teacher in the faculty room heard my story and informed me that he’d heard all about it on the news that morning.

Our PE teacher said that she lives in the same neighborhood as Shane’s family and heard about the crash through the neighborhood grapevine. She said that she knew the Wyrsch family from going to the same church.

So this is true. Shane is gone.

I finished my day as best I could, but, my students knew there was something terribly wrong.

I hurried home to find my husband and other friends gathered at our neighbor’s house. Most were crying, everyone in disbelief. I remember feeling sick to my stomach. I remember my heart just aching. I remember wanting desperately to do something. But, what? There is nothing that can be done to bring this man back to us. No matter what happens, he will still be gone.

The rest of the week was spent making phone calls, sending emails and searching for as much information we could find. Making sense of this senseless tragedy became priority number one.

On the day of the funeral service many of the guys that knew Shane through their love of motorcycles, met at a close friend’s house in Snoqualmie. They were to ride their motorcycles to the church, the cemetery and finally the reception. It was a miserable day. It poured and, yet, at least ten men showed up on their bikes to ride in honor of Shane. It was an impressive sight to see the double row of every different type of motorcycle you could imagine slowly making its way from Snoqualmie to Enumclaw. Many of the guys told me that they were crying before they even got through the main street of Snoqualmie.

I guess the reason that I’m retelling the events of the week Shane died is to impress upon everyone the importance of Shane in our lives. He was such a big presence, that you could only see him occasionally, but still be able to pick up right where you left off the last time you saw him. Now that he is gone, there is a huge hole where he is supposed to be.

The community is helping Shane’s family in many ways. The Fraternal Order of Police Chinook Lodge #21 is holding a benefit auction to help Zoe and the boys. Mt. Si High School is having a benefit game where all of the proceeds are going to Shane’s family. I know that the guys that have ridden motorcycles with Shane are going to dedicate their next ride to him and make it a fund raiser for the family. The football coach at Central Washington University, where Shane went to school and played football is going to have the players wear Shane’s number on their helmets. A friend’s men’s softball team is having a tournament where all of the entry fees will be given to help the family. I believe that if Shane wasn’t the man that he was, this amount of people wouldn’t be going out of their way to do so much for his wife and sons. He touched every single person involved with these fund raising efforts and they are going above and beyond the call of duty to make sure that his family is taken care of and Shane is honored.

No one will ever be able to fill the giant shoes of Shane Wyrsch. Although Shane was physically imposing in his appearance, he was not this way in his nature. He had a gift in dealing with people and treated people with all of the courtesy that he would wish to be treated with. Within five minutes of meeting him, you were considered his friend and you were given a smile and a hug that you would never forget.

When Shane died, he took a part of every one of those who knew him. So, I am asking Ms. Henke, the prosecuting attorney, to pursue the maximum sentence that the law will allow against the man, Kenneth E. Clark, who took our friend Shane. Shane, his wife and sons deserve the best effort she can put forth to this matter.