Home > Today's Christian
> 1997
> November/December
When the Bus Driver Cried
Not knowing what to say, his tears said it all
by Ed Rowell
 1 of 2
While working my way through seminary, I took a job driving a school bus. My assignment—to transport a load of kindergartners from one overcrowded district to another elementary school in a less prestigious neighborhood. The other drivers couldn't believe my luck. Without older students to teach them how to misbehave, my bus was a model of discipline and order.
Several of the kids came from single-parent homes. Ryan was one. As he got off the bus one day he asked me if I'd like to meet his mom sometime. "She's real pretty."
"I'll bet she is," was my response. "But I have a pretty wife at home."
Heading back to the bus barn one afternoon after finishing my route, I glanced in my mirror and saw a shaggy blonde head peeping up over the last seat. "Ryan, why didn't you get off at your house?"
"I fell asleep," he said.
"When did you wake up?" I asked.
"At Kim's house," he replied. I quizzed him further. "Well, why didn't you tell me you were still on the bus?"
Sensing my irritation, Ryan responded quietly, "I just didn't want to bother you." We circled back to his home, where he let himself in with the key hanging from a shoelace around his neck.
Halloween came. Friday afternoon, the kids were in costume, high on sugar and anticipation. Ryan was made up like a vampire. It was a long run. Lord, just get me through this so I can go take some aspirin. After my last stop, I scanned the bus for stowaways, and headed home.
A very short life
I slept in on Saturday. When I finally got moving and settled down with my first cup of coffee and the newspaper, a story on page two caught my eye. There had been an accident at the YMCA Halloween party. A heavy piece of gymnastic equipment was turned over. A child was killed. It was Ryan.
Oh Lord, no. He's just five years old.
I went to the White Chapel Funeral Home. I'm so scared. My greatest fear was that I would say something that would make his parents cry. Just don't say anything sad or stupid, I told myself.
There were just a few people talking to Ryan's family. His mom was pretty, just like he said. His dad was there too, with Ryan's stepmom. I imagined that the issues that had led to their divorce must seem pretty insignificant compared to the nightmare they were living right now.
I looked at the body in the half-sized casket. I thought I detected a little bit of Halloween makeup on his ear. Don't cry, you idiot, you'll upset his parents.
I looked up. There was no one left in the room except these three parents. I walked up to shake their hands. "I was Ryan's bus driver." His mom's eyes began to glisten. Watch it, don't get her started.
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