Bittersweet Sixteen
So today is my 16th birthday. I should be happy and celebratory. Instead, I'm saddened. I came to school totally ready to be happy and bouncy (and, in my usual bumminess, hang around all day even though I only need to be there for zero hour) like usual. Then, before first hour, something was announced.
On Friday night, Bobby Sackett died in his sleep from natural causes related to an ongoing medical condition.
I couldn't believe it at first. Sure, he was a bit obnoxious at times, but really he was very entertaining and likeable. I enjoyed bantering with him whenever we talked. But in an instant, he was gone. I got through first and second hour somehow.
Third hour rolled by. I made a pilgrimage down to the front of the library, where they had a memorial poster of sorts. I started to choke up as I got there. I took a marker and I wrote that I wished I had gotten to know him better and that I always enjoyed talking to him, and I wrote to his family that I was very about for the loss and that I was praying for them as I wrote, then I signed it "with love" with my English and Chinese names. Afterward, I wandered the downstairs looking for funeral information and finding none. After that, I returned to guitar lab and attempted to keep going.
After Simpson left us to our own devices, I tried to practice what he wanted us to and I wasn't really getting it. My usual frustration was replaced by me setting my guitar down and jsut twiddling my thumbs. Rachel saw and asked me (for probably about the fourth time) if I was okay. I started to say something and then I just cried. We went out of the room and sat down on the pew/bench to talk. I told her that my logical mind understood that death must happen at some point (and unfortunately for some, sooner than for others) and that this wouldn't be the first close loss I would experience in my life (Rachel told me this before I told her that my logical mind understood), and that my emotional mind just needed to catch up. And we mentioned various things referencing the fact that a parent should never have to bury their child. And then I admitted to her that my diabetes really is not under control at all. Bobby's death was a morbid wake-up call to me: if I continue to abuse myself by letting my diabetes run wild, I could easily end up dying like he did. Everyone's been telling me this all the time, yet it took Bobby's death to finally make me realize it. After that, she told me a few jokes to make me feel better, then we went back into the band room.
Kyle kidnapped me and took me to his English class, where I ran into Ashly as she was leaving. She gave me a baggy of peanut butter fudge, and I'm still thanking her for the medicine. I found a brief about Bobby's death in the newspaper and I tore it out. Otherwise, hanging out with Kyle for a while made me feel better and gave me some time to let my emotional mind catch up with my logical mind. I ate some of Ashly's fudge and the candy cane that Kyle gave me during zero hour so that I wouldn't have to carry it around all day.
Then I left with Kyle for lunch (he works in the kitchen). I only bought a milk and a package of Pop-Tarts because I really had no appetite at all; I was only eating because I had to. The Tubachristmas ensemble practice helped distract me for a while.
Then I followed Rachel to pre-calc. Nothing truly eventful there, except that I reread the brief that I had torn out of the newspaper. It seemed so bizzare, so unbelievable: "Robert 'Bobby' Thomas Sackett, 17, of Kennewick, was found dead Saturday in his Kennewick home. He was a high school student."
Sixth hour. Kelsey skipped study hall to come hang out in the band room with Rachel, Jeff, and me. She felt kind of bad for being cheerful when a lot of the school was depressed, but it did help a bit to hang around with her, because it lifted the black cloud somewhat. She gave me a dollar for my birthday, and around 2:00 I went to get something carbonated to settle my stomach. When I passed by the memorial poster the first time, I signed with my Japanese name (that I chose myself). After I bought the Diet Coke and was coming back, I added this: "P.S. - Thank you for the lesson you taught me." With that, I feel I've said everything I needed to say to him.
On the bus, I thought about the brief again. The second sentence: "Benton County Coroner Floyd Johnson said an autopsy is planned." I just couldn't imagine him having an autopsy done and I almost lost it again. But I was able to force that concept out of my mind, thankfully; just knowing he is dead is enough for one day.
Overall, today was very ironically sad for me. But I gained an important lesson out of today; it just grieves me that someone had to die for me to finally understand. But this is definitely not a bad birthday: after all, God has given me a gift of realization. What more could I ask for?
On Friday night, Bobby Sackett died in his sleep from natural causes related to an ongoing medical condition.
I couldn't believe it at first. Sure, he was a bit obnoxious at times, but really he was very entertaining and likeable. I enjoyed bantering with him whenever we talked. But in an instant, he was gone. I got through first and second hour somehow.
Third hour rolled by. I made a pilgrimage down to the front of the library, where they had a memorial poster of sorts. I started to choke up as I got there. I took a marker and I wrote that I wished I had gotten to know him better and that I always enjoyed talking to him, and I wrote to his family that I was very about for the loss and that I was praying for them as I wrote, then I signed it "with love" with my English and Chinese names. Afterward, I wandered the downstairs looking for funeral information and finding none. After that, I returned to guitar lab and attempted to keep going.
After Simpson left us to our own devices, I tried to practice what he wanted us to and I wasn't really getting it. My usual frustration was replaced by me setting my guitar down and jsut twiddling my thumbs. Rachel saw and asked me (for probably about the fourth time) if I was okay. I started to say something and then I just cried. We went out of the room and sat down on the pew/bench to talk. I told her that my logical mind understood that death must happen at some point (and unfortunately for some, sooner than for others) and that this wouldn't be the first close loss I would experience in my life (Rachel told me this before I told her that my logical mind understood), and that my emotional mind just needed to catch up. And we mentioned various things referencing the fact that a parent should never have to bury their child. And then I admitted to her that my diabetes really is not under control at all. Bobby's death was a morbid wake-up call to me: if I continue to abuse myself by letting my diabetes run wild, I could easily end up dying like he did. Everyone's been telling me this all the time, yet it took Bobby's death to finally make me realize it. After that, she told me a few jokes to make me feel better, then we went back into the band room.
Kyle kidnapped me and took me to his English class, where I ran into Ashly as she was leaving. She gave me a baggy of peanut butter fudge, and I'm still thanking her for the medicine. I found a brief about Bobby's death in the newspaper and I tore it out. Otherwise, hanging out with Kyle for a while made me feel better and gave me some time to let my emotional mind catch up with my logical mind. I ate some of Ashly's fudge and the candy cane that Kyle gave me during zero hour so that I wouldn't have to carry it around all day.
Then I left with Kyle for lunch (he works in the kitchen). I only bought a milk and a package of Pop-Tarts because I really had no appetite at all; I was only eating because I had to. The Tubachristmas ensemble practice helped distract me for a while.
Then I followed Rachel to pre-calc. Nothing truly eventful there, except that I reread the brief that I had torn out of the newspaper. It seemed so bizzare, so unbelievable: "Robert 'Bobby' Thomas Sackett, 17, of Kennewick, was found dead Saturday in his Kennewick home. He was a high school student."
Sixth hour. Kelsey skipped study hall to come hang out in the band room with Rachel, Jeff, and me. She felt kind of bad for being cheerful when a lot of the school was depressed, but it did help a bit to hang around with her, because it lifted the black cloud somewhat. She gave me a dollar for my birthday, and around 2:00 I went to get something carbonated to settle my stomach. When I passed by the memorial poster the first time, I signed with my Japanese name (that I chose myself). After I bought the Diet Coke and was coming back, I added this: "P.S. - Thank you for the lesson you taught me." With that, I feel I've said everything I needed to say to him.
On the bus, I thought about the brief again. The second sentence: "Benton County Coroner Floyd Johnson said an autopsy is planned." I just couldn't imagine him having an autopsy done and I almost lost it again. But I was able to force that concept out of my mind, thankfully; just knowing he is dead is enough for one day.
Overall, today was very ironically sad for me. But I gained an important lesson out of today; it just grieves me that someone had to die for me to finally understand. But this is definitely not a bad birthday: after all, God has given me a gift of realization. What more could I ask for?