Monday afternoon a sweet sixteen year old girl took her own life. I hate that I never saw it coming. I hate that I spent a whole week with her back in July and didn't see the hurt in her eyes. I hate that I couldn't save her somehow. I hate that she felt her life not worth living and didn't tell anyone.
I hate that life goes on when so many people are left reeling at this lost life. She knows Jesus, as far as I know. She and her family have been at Knox much longer than me. She was never terribly involved, but she was there. But half the time, I didn't talk to her at all. I smiled at her from time to time and said hi, but I never took the time to get to know her. I was wrapped up in my own story, my own life, and I didn't see her hurting. And she must have been hurting something awful. Guys, I worshipped with her, I went on mission trips and prayed and always assumed she would be there. Now, come Sunday, she'll be gone. Her parents will look tired and the kind of sad that only parents can feel, her brothers noticeably older and more subdued and wiser. I think that's the hardest part. Seeing them. Knowing it happened, having death stare you in the face and being completely lost for words. Her family is definitely not alone in their grief, but if I can't stop thinking about her, what they're feeling is almost unimaginable. My heart hurts just thinking about it. To make matters worse, I just finished reading The Fault In Our Stars by John Green, which is a wonderful book in itself, but just seemed to make me sadder. It had so much hope in it, bur why the heck does Augustus Waters have to die? I know he was sick, and cancer and suicide are hardly the same thing, but the results still have the same sting. Death stinks, you guys. It's unfair that some people live to an old ripe age while others die suddenly or painfully or in a way that leaves everyone reeling. I know we'll see Faith and Sara Frankl and all the rest someday, but it hurts to have them leave, especially when it feels like they could've lived so much longer. Right now, I'm furious at God. We hear so much about suicide survivors and how to seek help for depression and all that, but what happens when they don't survive? We've talked about suicide before---spent a whole month talking about it in youth group last year---but now this is getting personal. I want to know why and how and at the same time I want to protect everyone around me from going off the edge. I'm so scared it's going to happen again. That I've failed Faith, failed everyone else in my life. Becuase I have no control over their lives. I can't force them to see God working, to see hope, to accept that they are loved. That infuriates me. My siblings, my family, my friends---I can't DO anything for them. I can be there. I can try to comfort them and mumble platitudes and pray, but I'm so afraid it doesn't DO anything. It makes me scared for the freshmen I'm about to lead tomorrow. There's so much transition, so much anxiety about what happens. Tomorrow will be a boatload of fun, but high school opens them up to a world of hurt, and I want so much to protect them. I don't want them to have to cry themselves to sleep or watch people they love get hurt somehow or worse to see them get hurt. I want to protect them from bullies and harsh words and the media and fear of rejection and the feeling that God doesn't like them. I wish I had been able to protect Faith.
I hate that life goes on when so many people are left reeling at this lost life. She knows Jesus, as far as I know. She and her family have been at Knox much longer than me. She was never terribly involved, but she was there. But half the time, I didn't talk to her at all. I smiled at her from time to time and said hi, but I never took the time to get to know her. I was wrapped up in my own story, my own life, and I didn't see her hurting. And she must have been hurting something awful. Guys, I worshipped with her, I went on mission trips and prayed and always assumed she would be there. Now, come Sunday, she'll be gone. Her parents will look tired and the kind of sad that only parents can feel, her brothers noticeably older and more subdued and wiser. I think that's the hardest part. Seeing them. Knowing it happened, having death stare you in the face and being completely lost for words. Her family is definitely not alone in their grief, but if I can't stop thinking about her, what they're feeling is almost unimaginable. My heart hurts just thinking about it. To make matters worse, I just finished reading The Fault In Our Stars by John Green, which is a wonderful book in itself, but just seemed to make me sadder. It had so much hope in it, bur why the heck does Augustus Waters have to die? I know he was sick, and cancer and suicide are hardly the same thing, but the results still have the same sting. Death stinks, you guys. It's unfair that some people live to an old ripe age while others die suddenly or painfully or in a way that leaves everyone reeling. I know we'll see Faith and Sara Frankl and all the rest someday, but it hurts to have them leave, especially when it feels like they could've lived so much longer. Right now, I'm furious at God. We hear so much about suicide survivors and how to seek help for depression and all that, but what happens when they don't survive? We've talked about suicide before---spent a whole month talking about it in youth group last year---but now this is getting personal. I want to know why and how and at the same time I want to protect everyone around me from going off the edge. I'm so scared it's going to happen again. That I've failed Faith, failed everyone else in my life. Becuase I have no control over their lives. I can't force them to see God working, to see hope, to accept that they are loved. That infuriates me. My siblings, my family, my friends---I can't DO anything for them. I can be there. I can try to comfort them and mumble platitudes and pray, but I'm so afraid it doesn't DO anything. It makes me scared for the freshmen I'm about to lead tomorrow. There's so much transition, so much anxiety about what happens. Tomorrow will be a boatload of fun, but high school opens them up to a world of hurt, and I want so much to protect them. I don't want them to have to cry themselves to sleep or watch people they love get hurt somehow or worse to see them get hurt. I want to protect them from bullies and harsh words and the media and fear of rejection and the feeling that God doesn't like them. I wish I had been able to protect Faith.
This is so well put, Alyssa. You really show your heart in your blog posts. I can see the love you have for other people, not just here, but in everyday interactions. You shouldn't beat up on yourself too much--we all could have done more, but there comes a point where we have no control. Instead of wallowing in what's past, continue looking around. For Faith, it might have been too late, but who else is secretly going down that road that needs your help and your love? And as always, keep praying and trusting God. Everything is in His hands, and there are no better hands to hold the world together. I love you, dear. :)
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