A Moment

May 23, 2009
I know that life is hard. I know that however perfect a family appears to be, bad things can happen. I know teenagers can experience just as much pain as adults, even if it seems like their problems aren't as big. I know relationships can seem essential and difficult and stressful. What I don't know is why some one would want to get rid of all these things: why someone would end their life.

Nobody will ever know what you were truly feeling that night, but every single one of us wishes that we had asked. If I had told you that you could talk to me, would it have made a difference? Could she have saved your life by sneaking through your window? Every one of us thinks about what we could have, should have, would have done. I have finally come to the realization, though, that it doesn't matter. Nothing that we do from here on out can save your life. We can only change our own.

We're strong here. I have a lot of respect for your close friends, the ones who didn't want to get up that morning, and probably still have a hard time. I suppose you weren't thinking of them that night, but that's beside the point. They are thinking of you now. They're closer than they ever have been, I think.

I had never seen our school so united as we were on that Friday morning. Almost everyone already knew by the time they got to school, of course, because of the small-town factor. We sat and stared, each lost in our own thoughts. I never thanked you for helping me with that lab. You saved three lives just days before taking your own. I missed my last chance to see you by going on some dumb field trip.

We had a moment of silence for you, but the majority of the day was silent anyway. "Life is a gift. You need to cherish it," Mr. Schlegel said. The man who always has something to say, some way to make us laugh, couldn't come up with anything to comfort us. We did okay, though. The guys hugged a lot; almost as much as the girls. It was romantic in a way, how everyone came together to ensure that those of us still here were safe. Yet, I would have preferred to sit through an eternity of Zehner's lectures.

I don't know what went wrong. I don't know the thoughts that were running through your head or what caused them. I don't know what you're doing right now, or if you're doing anything at all. The only thing that I know at this point is that you were a good person who was well loved and will always be remembered.

Peace.





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