Well, March is almost over. I have ten weeks left in my sophomore year of high school, and I won’t be returning to the same school for my junior year, hopefully. I’ve applied to a college/high school program in which I will attend Richland Community College for the next two years, getting my high school diploma and two years of college credit at the same time. I much preferred my college courses this summer to the overly-regulated, suppressive atmosphere of my high school, so I think it’ll be a good move. It’s a public school, so they will have a lottery instead of choosing based on merit. I have my fingers crossed that my number will be drawn, as I would really love the opportunity.
On a far, far, far less cheerful or positive note, I have just emerged from one of the most upsetting and overwhelming weeks I have ever experienced. A week ago today, my brother Jeff’s best friend Mark was killed in a car accident while returning to college after spring break. We had all been so delighted by the downpour of rain we were receiving, as Texas (and the rest of the southwest) has had a horrible drought this year, but it was the rain that caused him to lose control of the car. The conditions were really not appropriate to be driving in at all, but Mark needed to get back to school…
We’ve all been really lost this week. My parents are good friends with Mark’s, and in the past couple of years (once we were all teenagers and all equals instead of me just being the ignored little sister) I’ve become pretty good friends with Jeff’s friends. Less than two weeks ago a few of us were hanging out around a campfire, cooking s’mores and joking around. I can see Mark so clearly, hear his voice as we laughed about something or other. And I can’t stop imagining how Jeff must feel right now, as they were extremely close. They’ve been best friends for years. And Mark’s parents are such nice people, and he was their only child, though they wanted more. I mean really, really nice people, not just the kind you say were nice after something tragic has happened. They were the quiet sort that would do anything to help anyone without demanding any credit, and Mark was the same way.
The visitation, mass, and burial all helped- they helped me, at least- but I know that his parents must be so overwhelmed right now, and they will remain so, and I want to be able to make their pain go away, but there just isn’t any way. I was completely lost for words when I saw both of them; I wanted to help them but all I could do was stand there and hug them, maybe just being there does help in some small way but I still felt so useless.
I’ve always known this, but I’ve never seen it so closely- the tragedy of death is the grief of those left behind, not the actual passing of the person. The tragedy lies within all of the hopes and time and love Mark’s parents had invested in their son, in all of the friends that knew him and had outrageous plans, dreams that maybe would never happen but were so fun to talk about. The tragedy is in knowing that so many possibilities have been ended, so many paths his life could have taken are now closed.
But we all loved him, and we will remember him for all of the good memories he left with us. That seems to be all that we can do.
