Sorrow founds it's way along the banks of the Mississippi. A friendly, light-hearted, talented young man, the son of a well-known, well-liked, vibrant couple took his own life and every parent I know has been rendered speechless.
Suicide is forever. Those who remain must live with unanswered questions, unspoken words, and dreams unfulfilled. The world as we know it has shifted into one we no longer recognize.
I don't pretend to know anything about this situation. But what I do know is that every single parent in this town is looking with fresh eyes at their own kids. We are re-examining our daily exchanges, peeking with renewed interest at their friends, and pulling every child who will let us a little closer. We are smelling necks and reveling in dirty socks and praying, even those of us who don't pray. Because what we know now, which is something we didn't know before, is that we are not smart enough, observant enough, vigilant enough, and this, above all, makes us scared.
Our hands have been forced into witnessing painful beauty-- people who were once strangers reaching out to each other, young people expressing their pain through music, and parents at their wit's end re-committing themselves to their children's world.
But it is a beauty I don't wish to see or know.
"I'm so glad it's not me," is what many are thinking.
But it could be. Isn't that what we are all wondering now?