Writers 
I was only nine years old when death came visiting. At that young age, I had my first real encounter with its bitter reality. It took six of my friends on the same day, at almost the same time, and it was a tragedy that left a mark on me forever.
Till this day, over 15 years later, I still get chills whenever I remember that fateful day.
Paula, Peace, Blessing, and Gabe were siblings from the same parents, and they were my next-door neighbours. Samuel and Emmanuella were their cousins who often came visiting, so their house was always filled with children and laughter.
Christmas holidays were always special.
It was that time of the year when children returned from school with countless stories, especially those who attended boarding school. Everyone had something to share — new experiences, funny moments, and memories from the term. The house was always lively, filled with friendships that had been built over the years.
That particular Christmas holiday was not any different.
However, something had changed.
Before the holiday, the father of Paula, Peace, Blessing, and Gabe had been transferred to another state. He had already spent some time there and was only waiting for the Christmas break to come and move his family to their new home.
It was a painful separation for us.
We cried, hugged each other tightly, and made promises to stay in touch. We planned to visit each other and keep the friendship alive through our parents’ phones. Samuel and Emmanuella had even insisted on following their cousins to their new base for the holiday.
None of us knew it would be the last time we would see them.
That Sunday afternoon, all six of them prepared to travel. We cried so much and struggled to say goodbye. Their father noticed how emotional we all were and promised that he would bring them back a day before Christmas so we could all be together again.
Those words gave us comfort.
We became excited again and started making plans. We promised to exchange gifts when they returned and looked forward to seeing each other once more.
But death had a different plan.
We were in the parlour watching a Christmas series when the news came.
They had already arrived in the new state and were only a few minutes away from their new home when the unexpected happened.
A big truck driving behind their car crashed into them. Their car was a small vehicle, and it stood no chance against such a heavy impact. The accident was devastating.
Their father and mother, who were seated in front, survived, but they were unconscious and badly injured.
Sadly, all six children died instantly.
I was only nine years old, but I felt a kind of pain I had never experienced before.
I could not understand how something so terrible could happen. How could death take six children at once? How could it happen so suddenly, and in such a painful way?
For years, I struggled to move past that experience.
I saw them in my dreams many times, and I often woke up frightened and shaken. The memory stayed with me long after that day.
Even now, whenever I remember that incident, I still feel the sadness and fear that came with it. It was one of the earliest experiences that changed the way I see life.
It affected the way I view road trips. I became someone who prepares carefully before travelling and who naturally becomes more cautious around heavy trucks on the road.
It also changed the way I process loss.
Whenever someone close to me passes away, it feels like a part of me is already prepared for it. I have learned that life is fragile and that no one is guaranteed forever.
Sometimes I wonder if that is a good thing or a bad thing — being prepared to lose people you love.
I honestly do not have the answer.
But one thing I know is this: that experience at nine years old changed me.
Death came early, and it left a lesson I have carried with me ever since.