The motorcycle crash death of Josh Morris two weeks ago is a story of many layers. According to police, Morris, who was 22, died after his motorcycle crashed into another motorcyle in a "twisted tribute" outside the funeral of a friend who had died days earlier, also in a cycle crash.
Morris' family requested publicly in his printed obituary that no motorcycles or motorcycle attire be displayed at his funeral. But on the day of the viewing, another motorcyclist was injured after crashing en route to the funeral home.
The chain of events sparked debate and controversy about what or who, if anyone, inspired the actions that resulted in the loss of life or in injury and property damage.
What is often forgotten in this reporting -- where we focus on what, when, how and the controversies surrounding events -- are the people whose lives must go on after tragic loss.
Two of those people, the sisters of Josh Morris, shared their reflections with a reporter last week for a story in The Sunday Mercury. That story told of Josh's life, not merely his death. It told of a loving family of adopted children -- their jokes, their travels, their goals -- and of the funny, ever-smiling side of Josh Morris that police or emergency medical workers never had the privilege to encounter.
When we report on crashes and fires and the tragedies that make the news, we rarely tell the stories of the days of joy that came before the moments of sorrow. It is not because we believe those days are unimportant or because we don't care. It is rare that a family chooses to publicly share a loved one's life when they are in the midst of grieving a public tragedy.
Beth Higgins and Chrissy Sabol chose to share their brother's story. It makes him more than a crash victim; it shows him to be a loving son, brother and friend.
That tribute certainly beats a display of rubber on the road.