Where Lives Stopped (Daily Break‪)‬

By Vicki L. Friedman | The Virginian-Pilot We pass the memories every day. * They are white crosses, some with names, others without. They are flowers, sometimes fresh, usually silk, frequently weathered by the elements. They are balloons, often deflated, and handwritten cards, ink smeared by a previous rain. They are stuffed toys that have become waterlogged, candles that have melted, spray-painted junk bikes that have been chained to electrical poles. * They are roadside memorials - sobering reminders of a life and where it abruptly ended. In our haste to drive from Point A to Point B, we often are oblivious to them or unaware of the stories behind them. * But what we always know is this: A life ended here. * Right here.