Sadness Visits Every Now and Then

Around this time two years ago, I was bouncing down the stairs to join my family in the kitchen for breakfast, before taking off for work, when my daughter asked me if I remembered a young man I had met once before, at the Day of Writing event held on campus. I said of course I remember him; he was one of four high school students I worked with, and of the four, he was the one I knew was going to go somewhere someday, be something someday. I had gone home that afternoon following the Day of Writing and told my daughter about this young man. She knew him from school, and yes, he was intense. I told her I thought this young man was brilliant. She'd laughed at this when I said it, but this particular morning, when she asked me if I remembered him, she wasn't laughing. She wasn't smiling. He killed himself, she told me.

I cried for most of the drive to work, wondering why. Why did this young man end his life? Why did he feel like it was the only way out? Why didn't he realize how brilliant he was? Why didn't he realize how much he had to offer the world?

As I drove, "Fugitive" by David Gray came on the radio. Ever since that day, I think of this young man whenever I hear "Fugitive." The song just played as I sat here, working on class materials, and with the gray weather, the much cooler temps, I went right back to that day when sadness over a young man's death was my companion.