My dear friend, Wayne Woodard, died 6 years ago this past weekend (August 2nd). He was 26. I think about him often, and I especially think about him this time of year. He was one of my very best friends, practically a brother to me, from the time we were babies, on up until his death. We were neighbors and classmates. We were buddies. I will always treasure the memories I have of him, growing up with him, and he will always hold a special place in my heart.
He died much the way he lived, trying to help others. He was a Deputy Sheriff, and was responding as quickly as he could to a home invasion call late at night when he lost control of his car and crashed. It further devastates me when I think about that call. It turns out that the "home invader" was just a drunk neighbor who accidentally tried to get into the wrong house. It was just so senseless to me, but I have to trust that it was God's plan.
Here is a photo of Wayne and me, along with some other of our friends. We must have been around 8 years old in this picture. He is the grinning boy in the back row, second from the left. (I am on the far right.)
He has a memorial page set up by the Officer Down Memorial here. He must never be forgotten. I will make sure of that. I will always remember and miss him.