Whether it's on the news or social media, you often hear about teenagers gone too soon - car accidents, suicide - no matter what, it's sad. But when it's someone from your own school - a sense of anxiety blankets you, thoughts running wild.
What if that had been my friend, or even me? Sure, people die all the time, but what happens when you die so young and the life you had planned out before you ceases to exist?
These are the thoughts that plagued my mind that fall day when my whole school was told that a member of my class had passed away. Later, through the small-town grapevine, we discovered the details, including that this event was self-inflicted. Months later, another classmate of ours was lost - this time it was something medical, but it blindsided us nonetheless. We honored them with two empty chairs during our graduation ceremony, as well as a small speech about them before we tossed our caps.
Today, the students of my former middle school are reeling in the wake of losing one of their own. Twelve years old. Bullied.
When you lose a classmate, you want to go to the funeral, but at the same time, you don't. Part of you thinks a funeral for someone so young just seems so ... unnatural. Another part doesn't want to intrude upon a sacred event often reserved for family and close friends.
Even if they didn't have a class with you, you may keenly feel their absence in the hallway. You may think you see them, but then you remind yourself that you never will again. It feels so different than when someone moves away or drops out. There's a sense of finality.
There will be rumors. There will be tears. Kind words. Hateful words. Memories shared.
The effect of a lost classmate may only be visible during the first few days after the loss, but it will stick with the surviving students like gum on the bottom of the shoe - out of sight and out of mind until someone reminds you.
Time may stop for a moment when that announcement comes. The next week or two may seem out of the ordinary despite the fact that daily routines continue to drone on. But life will go on, new, happier announcements will be made. But things will be changed in small ways. An empty desk here. A clean locker there. In my case, my heart would race every time our principal came over the intercom, as the first and second times she had done so had been to inform us about our lost classmates.
So let us remember, now that we're in college, to wear our seat belts. To be safe. To always remember that our life matters to someone.
