After Michael - A Life Cut Short

Mostly all I can hear is how my sneakers sound on the terrazzo floor as I walk, rubber hitting slick stone and then a little squeak with each step.

The back of my right hand skims over the chalky painted concrete blocks of my high school's hallway, around the curve, over big wooden doors, around, around. My shoulder brushes against the flock of Post-It notes people had stuck to the wall - a show of support for Michael ... for all of us. Too late. Too late.

My friend killed himself yesterday. Shot himself, of all things. And he didn't even die right away - he made it to the hospital. So, there was hope for a while, at least.

But now there's none.

His locker is covered with more notes. I wonder whether any were put there by the guys who'd given him such a hard time.

They've got to be feeling like shit. It had been like a game to them - but they probably never even imagined their bullying could lead to this. I bet they're scared - and honestly, I kind of hope they are. I don't want their lives to be ruined... just for them to be better. For everyone to.

Michael was funny. I'd known him since we were in third grade, when I moved here. We'd played Ninja Turtles back then, laughed at farts, talked about what we'd be when we were grown-ups.

These notes on the wall.

I don't know. Most of them were probably stuck there by people who didn't even know him. People who looked away or even laughed a little when they saw those guys picking on him. But maybe some were from kids who'd been afraid it could happen to them.

They probably feel like shit, too. Maybe this will change them, change everything. Maybe it'll all go back to how it was in a week. Except with no Michael.

I heard Michael's organs are being donated. That's kind of cool - kind of creepy, too. I mean, some stranger is going to be walking around with my friend's heart or lungs or whatever.

His parents. I try not to think about them. It's too hard. I can picture them - but not like how I'd seen them when I went over to work on a social studies project that time. Now I just picture them kind of frozen. Almost like they died, too - but like they're still walking around. I don't think they knew how bad it was for him. I mean, I didn't either, really.

Another class bell rings. I'm not going. I just can't. Maybe I'll just keep circling the loop of this hallway forever - missing my friend, feeling the notes stuck to the wall.

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http://www.wcyb.com/news/sullivan-county-community-remembers-bullied-teen/90404821

My heart's been so heavy since finding out one of my daughter's schoolmates took his life this week. His story was painfully familiar for our family - and it's still a wonder that fills me with immense gratitude that our outcome was not this. This piece was inspired by the sad loss of this precious boy's life.

How can we help? We can notice, engage, just listen. Maybe it works best with other people's kids. They'll open up to some other adult more because it doesn't feel so awkward. We can help them not feel so alone. We can share our own stories, build some hope that life DOES get better after high school. We find our own tribe of weirdos. We're not so alone.

Thomas Trent, rest in peace. May his friends and family find peace, too. May his short life and too-soon death soften hearts and change destinies.

Any proceeds from this post will be sent to the GoFundMe account someone set up for the family.

Written with StackEdit.