I could feel my heart race as I paced up and down the corridor. A tremendous sense of worry, guilt and heartbreak consumed my soul.I thought to myself, if the room was quiet , everyone could hear my heart sob. The orange walls seemed too ooze with a sense of fake comfort, and the rough, scratchy carpet, all lacked the warmth and love I needed at the moment. My best friend, Joshua, held my hand and told me that everything would be alright, but in that very moment, I lost hope for the time being. The beeping of the monitors and the weeping of young adults is a noise I will never forget. Coaches, and teachers crowded around a hospital bed, to send off one of their finest, bravest, and most strong willed student-athletes. Karl Walker was 19 when he passed away. My first love was gone in the blink of an eye.
Growing up I always knew what I wanted to be. I had wanted to be a neurosurgeon since I could remember. I went to school every day with the thought of having doctor before my name. It pushed me in school to keep my grades up. It drove me to work hard in every aspect of life. In that orange room that day, I remember when it hit me; I remember when I realized I no longer wanted to be a doctor. At first I was lost. I was in disbelief that the one thing I had wanted more than anything was gone, and my urge to complete this dream had dissipated quicker than I could have imagined. My want for life slowly began to fade and I realized that the person I was was no longer.
The funeral came and went, and with that my heart began to heal. The hot muggy church attracted people in droves. Karl wasn’t just anybody, he was everybody. He was what almost every human being wanted to be. He was full of energy and driven, an athlete and an all around great friend. The community was sent into a panic. I live in a small town, about two miles long. Families have lived here for generations, everyone knows each other, and in a sick twisted way, were all like distant relatives. I never truly loved where I lived. I was annoyed by the lack of compassion we seemed to show one another. If you told one person your business, the entire world would know it.
In the hours following Karl’s death, I realized this town was so much more than that. I watched people who hate each other come together and bond over a tragedy, people who never talked knew each other’s names, and found comfort in each other’s arms. Karl’s parents became a beacon of hope for anyone who met them. Smiling and making small talk and laughing with people, even if we felt we all had nothing to laugh about. The Walkers restored my hope.
Hours turned into days, and days into weeks, I began to sleep again , I became stronger mentally and decided to work through the pain that was wreaking havoc in my heart. I turned the pain into something positive, and I began to write. I began to write about the beauty in the world and how life’s to short to just be living. You have to enjoy what you do. Its cliché, but everyday could be your last, and life is to short to waste it on worrying about what you COULD have been. In this tragedy, I learned an amazing life lesson. Just because life gets you down, doesn’t mean you have to be down. There is always a second option, that you can make your first option. Being a journalist, might just fulfill that hole
themightyo.tumblr.com