| The Plague of Death |
Death is becoming a common thing in my school. We’ve had six deaths in less than two years. That's not right, not for any school. Last year, a boy in my class, a freshman, died after being in an accident. He had been riding a four wheeler and crashed. He went into a coma and died about a week later. Then, a while later, three former students died in another accident. On September 11, another former student- the son of one of the office workers- died in the twin towers. I only found out about Myles' death this morning from a friend. I think I probably knew him once, years ago, but I don't remember. He had a twin sister. Gods, this must be so hard for her. To lose half of yourself must be the worst feeling in the world. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. Everyone is subdued, if not crying. Everyone feels the sadness from Myles’ death. A lot of people are probably of in their own worlds, thinking about this or else trying to black it out. Others, like me, are writing about it. Everyone is showing their sorrow in their own way. Even the weather seems to be mourning with us. It's so foggy and gray. It's like Mother Earth feels our pain as her own. She probably does. How this hurts, and yet, it doesn't hurt. You feel it, but you don't. It keeps happening, the dying, and if you don't block at least some of it out it will make you go mad. Each time you manage to keep sane, it amazes you. A good friend of mine told me that nothing happens without a reason. I believe that. So, what was the reason here? Where is the purpose of his death? There are so many questions that could be asked, and we may never get answers to them. How it hurts to see people openly hurting. It cuts at you. In a way, I think seeing how others are hurting is more painful than what is causing the hurt. That, and not knowing what to do, is almost worse than the death. The death. The fact that he's gone, so young, hurts worse when you think of all he'll miss. Prom, graduation, college; the list goes on. To die so young, you miss some of the best things you could remember. The smiles, the tears, the hellos and good-byes: all of the things that make life worthwhile. People are talking now. I hear them, a low murmur in the background. They could be remembering or comforting each other. I don't know. It hurts knowing that another face will be forever missing from the crowds, even if I don't remember that face. That doesn't mean it can't hurt. That doesn't stop it from hurting. And it does. Laura Dewey January 28, 2002 Copyright ©2002 Laura Dewey |
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