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Frank and I used to dare each other to do crazy things. But one dare went too far.

Guilt Transformed by Grace

by Jeff Davies as told to Laura Mae Chen

Sometimes I still blame myself for Frank's death.

Most days I feel fine and don't really think about it. It’s been four years, so I'm able to convince myself that I've healed and moved on. But then there are other days when I feel helpless, alone, ashamed, and angry—just as I did on the day my roommate, Frank Modeste, drowned.

As a freshman in college I attended all the social events. I sang for the choir, participated in some clubs on campus, and got to know as many people as I could. Including Frank.

My first memory of him is at the Student Association's skating party. Frank didn't really know how to skate, but there he was in the middle of the rink, skating as best he could. Every time I'd skate by I'd yell, "Hey!" And he'd wipe out, taking about four or five other people with him.

We'd both laugh uncontrollably, and our shared sense of humor helped us become friends. We became such good friends that the following year we decided to room together in the dorm.

Frank had this habit of daring people to do crazy things. "I dare you to climb the flagpole," he once told me. When I refused, he added, "I'll give you a dollar!"

Once we all thought we'd get the best of Frank by turning his dares on him. We dared him to go out in the middle of the street and lie on the pavement while cars whizzed by. And he did!

That's why when we went to the Chemistry Department's retreat in the San Bernardino Mountains, we knew we'd have plenty of opportunities to carry out some dares.

Early Sabbath morning all of us students and faculty gathered to hike down to Jenks Lake, nestled deep within the mountains. Frank and I had hardly reached the lake when he said, "I'll give you a dollar to climb that huge tree."

"No way!" I laughed. "I'll give you a dollar to swim across the lake!"

Frank hesitated at first because of the size of the lake. But soon he took up the challenge and started taking off his shirt and shoes. So did a few other guys, shouting, "Yeah, let's do it!" Not wanting to be a chicken, I joined them.

I was halfway across the lake when I heard a scream. My heart began pounding as I turned my head back to see what was wrong. Frank, behind me, panted and struggled, his head barely above the water.

My friends and I swam back to him, shouting all the way, "Don't panic! Stay calm! Just float!"

"I can't!" wailed Frank. "I can't!"

Four of us formed a diamond shape and treaded water around Frank. We assumed he must have gotten a cramp. But then suddenly he went down.

One of the guys went down after him and brought him back up, choking and sputtering. I thought everything would be OK then.

But Frank went down again. This time I went after him. I grabbed on to him, trying with all my might to pull him to the surface. But he was so hysterical that he seized and strangled me.

I fought and twisted away from his grasp. I felt his arm grab my leg. Then slowly, gradually, his hand drifted down my leg and was gone. That was the last time we saw Frank.

Jenks Lake has some of the coldest and murkiest water I've ever been in. So although each of us went under the water to look for Frank, we didn't find him. I remember screaming for help, feeling as if I were going to drown because I was so exhausted.

Some kids in canoes came over and helped us look for Frank. But time was passing rapidly, and we knew Frank wouldn't be able to survive for long. The rescue team and paramedics didn't arrive until an hour and a half after Frank had disappeared. I was there when they pulled his body out of the lake.

The medical team took the chance that they could resuscitate him and rushed Frank by helicopter to San Bernardino County Hospital. But when the doctor, wearing green scrubs, came down the hall toward us, I caught the pained look in his eyes. I knew Frank was gone.

I couldn't believe it. My heart sank to my stomach, and my lungs seemed to explode when I heard the news. I kept thinking, This is my fault. I dared Frank to swim across the lake. If we'd never been so competitive with dares, this never would have happened.

I didn't feel I had anyone to turn to after Frank's death. Some of Frank's and my closest friends tried to console me, but for weeks I just wanted to be alone. My mind kept drifting back to earlier times, especially the time Frank told me that he thought drowning would be the absolute worst way to die. Ironic.

I've heard that as people drown, their mind still exercises conscious thought up to 10 minutes after their last breath. I wondered what Frank had thought during his last moments. I imagined him thinking, Jeff, why aren't you here? Why can't you save me?

I felt horrible when I had to face Frank's family at the funeral. It was the first time I'd ever met them, and the pain in his oldest sister's eyes haunts me to this day.

After Frank's death my grades dropped, my weight dropped, and my relationship with God suffered. Angry at God, I wondered how He could have allowed something like this to happen. Frank had been the hope of his family. Why did God let Frank die in the prime of his life?

I questioned God and doubted His presence. And I tried to blame Him so I wouldn't have to blame myself.

Quite some time passed before I began allowing myself to heal. I'd known all along that Frank's accident wasn't God's fault, but it took me a while to accept the fact that God permitted it to happen. Yet gradually I began to remember the happy times with Frank, and remembering actually felt good.

Frank, a strong Christian, had seemed ready to give his spirit to Christ. I began to ask myself, Am I? If my life ended now, would I be ready to face Jesus at the resurrection? Matthew 24:42 tells me, "Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come."

Now I live each of my days to the fullest, because I never know which day will be my last.

I still fight feelings of frustration when I think that I might have been able to save Frank or prevent this tragedy from happening. I still hurt, and I miss him a lot. But I know that Frank will someday enjoy eternal life.

On October 1, the anniversary of Frank's death, a few of his friends and I got together and ate dinner in his honor. We brought with us our pictures and memories of him. We cried, and we prayed. And we even visited Jenks Lake.

I have a drawing Frank gave me that's framed on my wall. I try to surround myself with things that remind me of him. I want to remember Frank, not forget him.

Sometimes I still blame myself for Frank’s death. But most times I choose to celebrate Frank's life.

Laura Mae Chen, 22, is a senior at La Sierra University in Riverside, California. She’s studying English and secondary education, and will graduate in June. Her interests include reading, lots of writing, working with kids, sports, and animals. Her home is in Oxnard, California. Jeff Davies, now 24, is a student at Touro University School of Medicine in San Francisco, California. His home is in Westmont, Illinois, and he loves every sport invented.