BUCKING THE SYSTEM: KYLE WAS A SHINING STAR WHO WAS CLAIMED WAY TOO SOON

Many people have a hard time reflecting upon death during the Christmas season, myself included. This is the season of life and birth, a time when people decorate their homes with twinkling lights and invite others in to share gifts and laughter.

This year, many people will mourn during the time of celebration. Not only will they feel sadness for the loved ones who aren't here to share the holidays, but some will also remember people they don't even know.

I have loved ones I will miss this year, but I can at least understand their deaths because they died of natural causes. There have been a number of well-publicized deaths in our area over the past month involving young people, and it saddens me to think about those families who have lost loved ones due to accidents or senseless violence.

The death of one young man stands out for me because I knew him personally. The twinkling light of Kyle Cope was killed after a car accident on Nov. 29, and his death blindsided many Charleston residents.

The sadness of his death for me lies in what might have been. You see, Kyle was a personable young man who would have made an excellent honest politician. He had a straight-forward manner and infectious, toothy grin that was very likable.

This wasn't always the case. I remember when Kyle was a skinny, little thing with big ears, that same smile and a squeaky voice that he enjoyed using. He was my sister's classmate, and the two were very much alike. Both were teachers' kids, had strong leadership skills and were considered "brainiacs" by their classmates.

Clarissa didn't care for Kyle very much in grade school, or so she claimed. Every day she would come home with a new story about how Kyle had managed to annoy her that day. "He won't leave me alone!" she would wail, just before concocting a new "get rid of Kyle" scheme.

Her efforts were to no avail; however, Kyle had the skin of an elephant and only laughed without offense at her attempts to pry him away from her side.

Kyle didn't only affiliate himself with Clarissa, he worked on her family as well. He often forced me to speak to him by asking me over and over and OVER again where my sister was.

"That little bugger is really annoying -- I ought to tell him where she is," I would think each time, but I never gave her up. The two of them at once would have been too much to bear.

As they grew older, the two developed a halting relationship, and by high school, they were friends. It turns out Kyle wasn't so bad after all.

Kyle kept in touch with Clarissa and our family after going to college. He never returned to school after a visit home without visiting the Zellars household. On one such visit, he met my then-fiance, Patrick.

After talking with the couple for several minutes, he hugged me and said he approved my choice. He then instructed Patrick to take good care of the rare gem he was getting.

I guess it was then that I noticed that the gangly little boy who had been all ears and knees had grown up to be a quite winsome young man. The squeaky voice had deepened, but everything else remained the same. The driving intelligence was still there, as was the toothy grin.

That was almost exactly two years ago, but it seems like just yesterday. He was an impressive young man, and I'm sorry more people didn't get to know him. Looking back, I realize he was a bright spot in my life, a shining star.

Kyle's death, coupled with those of the mother and four daughters killed in a car accident the same weekend and the three high school teens killed at their high school, made me remember how precious our time here really is. 'Tis the season to be jolly, but more importantly, 'tis the season to be thankful.

During this holiday season, we should rejoice and celebrate the occasion gladly, but we should also take a moment to remember those who have lost loved ones this year. It doesn't matter whether you knew the person or not. Compassion requires no effort and is its own reward.

~Tamara Zellars Buck is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.