Life is too fragile. Too easily consumed.
I still remember the days I'd sit in algebra at Bonneville, and talk/exchange lighthearted teasing with my classmates. I don't remember them all, but one kid in the year below me always stuck out. I think we were in band together. I don't remember what we talked about (because let's face it, the things junior high kids think about rarely really matters past 9th grade) but I remember knowing this kid was cool. As a silly little girl I never would have admitted that out loud, but looking back on it I knew all along.
This kid was special.
He lit up a room, and never really seemed to have a bad word to say about anyone. He was a hippie, and a lover. We weren't close, but we existed in relatively close proximity. Even without being best friends I could tell he had light. This unassuming, kind fellow passed away recently.
From the people I've known who have died, it really is only the good who die young.
It's a sad truth, and the only cliche I'll force upon these pages. I don't assume to know anything about what happens when people die, or whether or not anything happens at all. I do know, however that the world lost a great guy.
Peace, Kiddo.
