November 17, 2008 was just another Monday to me when I woke up. I was a sophomore in high school and on top of the world. I remember this day like it was yesterday. I even remember what I was wearing; I had a pair of dark blue jeans, a long sleeved knitted blue shirt, and a pair of original Converses. As my dad dropped me off there was a song on the radio, “Give Me Your Eyes” by Brandon Heath. Some of the lyrics are:



“Give me your eyes for just one second



Give me your eyes so I can see



Everything that I keep missing



Give me your love for humanity
Give me your arms for the broken hearted



The ones that are far beyond my reach?



Give me your heart for the one’s forgotten



Give me your eyes so I can see…”
Little did I know how much those words would mean to me just seven hours later.
I went through my day, going from class to class, lunch, then more classes. My last class of the day was Animal Science. I walked into the chemistry room smelling all the chemicals-- most prominently the formaldehyde from a dissection in the last class. I sat down at my table feeling the cold steel of the stool and the black rock table top. Our teacher walked to the front, starting the class up talking about the next project we were going to do. I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket and stopped myself from the temptation of looking at my newest text message. At a quarter till three the phone started ringing with its annoying, high-pitched percussion. I didn’t know that call would change my attitude of the whole entire day.
The office was calling me down to the front desk. I felt my face flush, wondering if I had done something wrong and wracking my brain for whatever the offense had been. I walked out of the room and let the heavy wooden door slam shut. I turned to my right and saw my mother standing there waiting for me. So I walked up to her and asked her what she was doing there. I did not have any idea whatsoever. She pulled me into this little alcove; the next thirty seconds were some of the most heart-breaking seconds I have ever dealt with. She sat me down on the hard wooden bench and told me that she had sent me that text message I had felt from before. She said that she realized what a horrible mistake it was sending me the message through a text; so she hurried down to tell me in person. I took out my phone and read the message. The message said: “I just got a message from Todd telling me that Jared took his life yesterday. Pray for the family and all others.” I sat there with the words swimming in front of my face, not wanting to believe it and wishing it not to be true. Everything after that was like slow motion but went by in a blur.

Jared was a kid from my youth group. He was the sweetest, nicest, most sincere person I have ever met. We might have not always gotten along, but we were always there for each other; he once saved me from getting taken out to sea when we were swimming out in the Pacific Ocean. He was one of my closest friends, and he was that way with many people. Everyone was so shocked when this kid took his life. Many of us could never see that coming from him…but isn’t that how it always seems to be? Later that night, my youth group got together and comforted each other. Everyone, not just me, was having a hard time dealing with this loss. After this tragic event I went into a slight depression-- crying all the time, never wanting to go outside, not wanting to go to church, sick of sports, and not wanting any company.

I’m now out of that time in my life but his anniversary is always a hard time for many of us. To commemorate him we wear purple (his favorite color) bracelets on our wrists with his name and the date. I never take it off. I also always wear a “To Write Love On Her Arms” bracelet on my arm. This organization is a place that’s against people cutting themselves; they support having a positive outlook on yourself and not harming yourself. I hold these causes close to my heart and am always going on the suicide prevention walks and talking my friends out of hurting themselves. I want to become more active in this movement and am just hoping for that opportunity in the near future. Every single time I think of or hear that song “Give Me Your Eyes” it reminds me to always be on the watch for people in need and hurting.