Life and death

I’m writing this at school, on a Tuesday afternoon — just another Tuesday afternoon, but not.
Earlier this month, a student in my year at school passed away. I didn’t know him well, and I’m not pretending to have done so, but it affected me, as it affected so many in my year, whether they were close friends with him or not. At lunchtime today, a memorial service was held, and special arrangements put in place for the whole year group, to enable us to reflect in peace after the service.

No one expected him to die. No one wants to think that, when the sun rises tomorrow, another person won’t be here, and this time, it might be just a little closer to home than the yesterday’s victim. We’re young students — care-free, existing in our bubbles where nobody can touch us, and the world can’t get to us. This is our time, our moment, and none of us are going to die now, so young, with so much more to do and to find, to say and think, to discover and explore and learn and know.
But that’s not true.

Life is so extraordinarily fragile; no comparison can accurately reflect just how easily a life can be lost, shattered into shards that splinter us all. The bigger the life, the more shards there are to collect — meticulously piece together over weeks and months and years — until a life can be put back together.
But it’s not the same.

Isn’t it incredible how much we don’t know about the people around us? Honestly, I had no idea about half the things this student achieved, or took part in, or enjoyed. A keen scientist, a top mathematician, a sportsman, a composer, a computer scientist, a creative — I knew none of it. Only when he can no longer take credit for all this is it revealed to the world, the curtain — which could have been moved whenever — finally lifted. Why didn’t I know how brilliant this boy was before? Why am I finding this out now, when it’s too late because God, or whatever is out there, has taken him too soon and the end isn’t here — it’s gone, already?

If nothing else, this serves as a reminder. Appreciate everyone around you: friends, acquaintances, fellow members of this global community of ours. Learn from them — both the things you can say, and the things that you can’t. Learn, grow, and allow yourself to be learnt from. Be the best person you can, and see the best in the people around you.

Leave behind what you can, because nobody knows when their sun will set for the final time. Take risks, make friends, do things that you are scared of, because tomorrow may not present itself, and those opportunities may not present themselves again either. Life doesn’t wait for us, so we can’t wait for it either; grab everything that comes your way with everything you have, because you just don’t know if it’ll ever come around once more.

Sorry this post is short, and not really well-structured or thought out. I just needed to get words down on a page, for my own sake mainly, and this is the result. It’s realistic, if nothing else, and reflects how I feel and what I’m thinking at the moment.

Kel XX

17 thoughts on “Life and death

  1. Hope you are okay, a girl in the year above me who earned 9 A*’s at GCSE died a couple of years ago and it shook the school. This is a very well written post, I hope that with the support of your friends and the school community, you will all honour his name and spread awareness x

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Your thoughts make sense to me. They’re raw, but they are powerful. My head feels all fuzzy thinking about life and it’s fragility, which has become all too apparent to me over the past few months. It’s such a difficult thing to deal with, but you’re entitled to feel these emotions, because you are human and you understand the value and beauty of life. You are so strong and you’re so right that we need to appreciate everyone around us. I know it can’t help much but I’ll send hugs your way – you are much appreciated and I’m proud of you for sharing these words with us.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ut’s so overwhelming, thinking of the fragility of life. Our life, in its purist form, is the one constant, the one thing we’ve always known to be. But if it is truly vulnerable — which, of course, it is — then can we trust it to be that said constant? I don’t know the answer, and I’m not sure I want to either.
      Thank you Em XXX

      Liked by 1 person

      1. It is, it’s scary that our lives could disappear at the blink of an eye, and everything we’ve become and everything that lay ahead of us gone with them. But we have to trust it in spite of it’s vulnerability, otherwise we wouldn’t be living much of a life at all. We have to find the courage to face our fears and chase our dreams because for now we are here and we are alive; for now it is the constant that we must rely on to make some sense of this world. Xx

        Liked by 1 person

  3. I feel weird writing a comment to this but I feel like your blog post is a very needed blog post for people to read. A month ago, a boy in our Sixth Form sadly passed away (due to sucide) and it shocked me how silent it was around the subject. It seemed like a taboo and it really shouldn’t have been.However, it made a lot of us thankful for what we had and how sad it made us that the guy wasn’t going to be able to grow up and do things that everyone should do in their lifetime. We need to start telling people that we love one other and not to be distracted by the busy life of ours when we should be making sure to tell people that we are thankful for the lives that we have to appareatiate being alive. Thanks for this blog X

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m so sorry to hear this. It’s strange, because you just don’t, and can’t, expect it. School is for the young, and the young don’t die; but they do, whether through suicide, or some other way. The young don’t die, but they do.
      If you ever want to talk, remember that I’m here. Thank you X


  4. I’m so sorry for your loss. When I was in elementary school my classmate and friend passed away and I felt the exact same way as you’ve written in your post (though I had to stop reading as I was getting a bit too emotional). I remember not believing it and it feeling so fake, as you just don’t expect anyone that young to die. Good luck with this hard time ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Me too, somewhat. But in others, it’s comforting: we have nothing, really, but the certainty of death, which in itself is reassuring. X


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