BY KAREN SAMPLES
The Cincinnati Enquirer
A cross in the memory of accident victim Brian Millard is in the path of work to widen the road.
(Patrick Reddy photo)
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FLORENCE -- They've been working here for weeks, running their huge machines along Woodspoint Road, chewing up dirt and grass and weeds.
This is progress: a street widening to ease traffic behind new stores. Soon the workers will have to press farther up the hill. For now, though, their bulldozers have stopped short -- a rough gesture of respect for someone's pain.
Inches from the edge of construction is a small, white cross wedged between two rocks. It is decorated with three hearts and a single word: "Brian."
Foreman Dean Stith isn't sure who planted the cross, which is near the intersection of Woodspoint and Houston roads. He knows only that he doesn't want to disturb it, and at the same time, that it soon must be moved.
"I'm working around it for right now," says Mr. Stith, who vaguely recalls a car accident at the site several years ago. "I know it wasn't but a 16-, 17-year-old boy who got killed there."
Brian Millard
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The Boone County coroner's office solved the mystery. The cross is for Brian Millard who died in November 1995. He was 20.
Several weeks after the funeral, his father, Al, welded together two pieces of steel and painted them white. His sister, Lauren, decided his name should be written in blue, because that was the color of his eyes.
Brian's mother wanted the three hearts. They represent the three of them, who loved Brian very much.
He doesn't have a grave site. He was cremated so his remains could go with his family if they ever decide to move.
The cross became a place to remember. The place where Brian's spirit was released.
In the beginning, his family also found his belongings -- glasses, wallet, baseball cap, watch -- scattered in the grass. Brian had planned to attend Cincinnati State Technical and Community College. At Ryle High School, he had been a starting center on the football team.
Many young people knew him. Al Millard, chief of Union's emergency medical squad, wanted the cross to be a reminder: Please, don't drive recklessly; look what happened to Brian.
He was killed when a friend, allegedly speeding, lost control of his car and ran off Woodspoint Road. The three other young men in the vehicle survived.
Sometimes Brian's mother, Debe, drives by the cross to make sure it's OK. She had noticed the construction and wondered what would happen. The family doesn't want the cross disturbed, but they'll move it if necessary.
Told how careful the workers have been so far, Mr. Millard's voice softens. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate that," he says. "I really can't. I'd actually like to thank them for it."
He plans to do that soon, when he stops by to ask about the cross. Together, the family has visited on holidays, Brian's birthday and the anniversary of his death. Sometimes, they've noticed flowers left by other people. Once, another bereaved parent was waiting there to give Mr. Millard a book. They didn't know the man. He just wanted to help.
In the beginning, reading about grief was more than they could handle. Sometimes it's still too hard. Mrs. Millard is now trying to start a Compassionate Friends support group in Northern Kentucky. To do so, she needs to find two other parents who would like to join.
The mourning process is unpredictable, she says. Friends don't always know what to say. In a figurative sense, her address book has changed since Brian died; some names are no longer there.
She finds comfort in solitary visits to the cross.
"I just sit in the car and try to figure out what happened and why it happened," Mrs. Millard says.
She also talks to Brian there, near the guardrail where he died. Sometimes, she just cries.
Karen Samples is The Enquirer's Kentucky columnist. Her column appears on Sundays and Thursdays in The Kentucky Enquirer. She can be reached at 578-5584 or email
her at ksamples@enquirer.com
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