(no subject)
Del Val Grad Dies in Wreck
Car Enthusiast, 19, Remembered As Kind.
I can't stop crying about the fact that someone's life could be summed up in those words. I can't understand. What does this all mean? Here I am in the computer lab in a castle in Europe-- with my face all red, this huge knot in my throat, blowing my nose into a pathetic wad of toilet paper-- and weeping this suppressed, public choke over the thought of one unknown life snuffed out in one distant instant. It's not as if I knew Tyler Templeton, or ever hoped to speak with him, or meet his children. It just strikes me as this tragic waste on a one man scale-- seemingly completely unconnected to my own life. It's tragic and terrible, and yet so insignificant. It's one more moment in a long line of time, representing just one more person no longer standing. And still, this news that might easily roll off my back, has thrown me into this turmoil that I am unable to contain or deny. I don't know... it's just that this list is lengthening and it doesn't get any easier as it scrolls along. It almost feels like a shallow refrain to invoke my list of dead peers, but they're there... Stefanie Fischardi from my homeroom who was killed a couple of months ago, Jeff Bush the dropout asshole from Mrs. Hoinowski's algebra class, the nice wrestler Dan who feel asleep in his car driving home, the skinny kid who I square danced with in gym class who eventually flew through his windshield, Kenny who shot himself in the head in front of his younger brother, Steve Haver who was drunk and died in his car, Kristin who died of leukemia when we were 14, Dan Franks who drowned in the river... I know I'm missing names. And the names aren't important. I feel at a loss. There is way more to a life that the importance that I can attribute to it-- "Police said Tyler Kaleb Templeton of Holland Township was heading south and driving fast about 2:15 a.m. when he lost control of his car around a curve and struck the concrete median barrier. The 1998 Mitsubishi Eclipse GSX then flipped on its roof and slid for about 840 feet before coming to a stop. Templeton was not wearing a seatbelt, police said." A highly preventable, non-inevitable, average, typical death.
Car Enthusiast, 19, Remembered As Kind.
I can't stop crying about the fact that someone's life could be summed up in those words. I can't understand. What does this all mean? Here I am in the computer lab in a castle in Europe-- with my face all red, this huge knot in my throat, blowing my nose into a pathetic wad of toilet paper-- and weeping this suppressed, public choke over the thought of one unknown life snuffed out in one distant instant. It's not as if I knew Tyler Templeton, or ever hoped to speak with him, or meet his children. It just strikes me as this tragic waste on a one man scale-- seemingly completely unconnected to my own life. It's tragic and terrible, and yet so insignificant. It's one more moment in a long line of time, representing just one more person no longer standing. And still, this news that might easily roll off my back, has thrown me into this turmoil that I am unable to contain or deny. I don't know... it's just that this list is lengthening and it doesn't get any easier as it scrolls along. It almost feels like a shallow refrain to invoke my list of dead peers, but they're there... Stefanie Fischardi from my homeroom who was killed a couple of months ago, Jeff Bush the dropout asshole from Mrs. Hoinowski's algebra class, the nice wrestler Dan who feel asleep in his car driving home, the skinny kid who I square danced with in gym class who eventually flew through his windshield, Kenny who shot himself in the head in front of his younger brother, Steve Haver who was drunk and died in his car, Kristin who died of leukemia when we were 14, Dan Franks who drowned in the river... I know I'm missing names. And the names aren't important. I feel at a loss. There is way more to a life that the importance that I can attribute to it-- "Police said Tyler Kaleb Templeton of Holland Township was heading south and driving fast about 2:15 a.m. when he lost control of his car around a curve and struck the concrete median barrier. The 1998 Mitsubishi Eclipse GSX then flipped on its roof and slid for about 840 feet before coming to a stop. Templeton was not wearing a seatbelt, police said." A highly preventable, non-inevitable, average, typical death.