My Struggles
“This is bullshit; you have got to be fucking kidding me.” Those were the words that I uttered that night after my good friend came to tell me about the news at Berea College. This weekend, while I was five hours away from my school and stressing about missing days of classes in the quest for internships and building my network portfolio, four of my friends’ lives were about to be changed forever. In what I can only describe as a horrific event, two of them lost their lives. They got T-boned by another driver while the car split into two.
Big droplets of tears were rolling on my cheeks while I had my mouth opened not knowing what else to say or to do. I was not present on the scene, so I will never be able to know for sure what were the details, but what I know for certain is that my world was shook and in that moment I felt small an insignificant. There, I was worrying about what major corporation would want to make use of my financial and accounting skills and how I was going to live up to my goals and aspirations, and those young ladies depart from this earth without prior notice, without ever reaping from the fruit of their labors. I felt like something was poking me from the inside as I was trying to make sense of what was it going to mean to drive back to college and not expecting to ever seeing those people anymore. I am never going to be able to tell one of them that she is late again since we joked all the time that she is the captain of the tardiness team, and never will I be able to play pool with the other one.
What are we? What’s the point of living if at the end we don’t get to pick when and how we go? This is such an unsettling idea for me; the death of youths. One of the four is still fighting in the hospitals with all kinds of internal fractures and traumas. The way this young man sees life is so beautiful and pure as he is an open book whose life purpose seem to spread joy to those around him. For all the years that I have hang around him, however short or long they may have been, I have never heard him complaining about anything. However, like all of us, he has his own demons to fight but for the sake of those around him - and for himself too - he consciously chose to live a life of happiness and joy.
I remember the first time I ever had a serious talk with him; he was telling me about one of his dreams, which is to build a financially sustainable school in some remote places in the world where students would not have to pay a dime. His ideas are idealistic at worst, and now I can only think about the moments we ever spend together while the whole Berea gang and the likes are praying for him. And the other person, while I don’t know him as much as the others, is wrestling with all kinds of trauma resulting from the accident. I cannot even begin to imagine what it means to be the survivor of that car crash.
If I could I would go back and fix that and many other events, but I cannot. So, I urge you to drive sober, wear your seatbelt, do not text and drive, and please pay attention to the road. No amount of I am sorry will ever give back the lives you take away for failing to take into consideration those who share the road with you.
(I decide not to reveal names by respect of the family of the deceased)
/image%2F0114774%2F20180108%2Fob_2c9770_img-2540.jpg)
/image%2F0114774%2F20170815%2Fob_b26c40_190062.jpg)
/image%2F0114774%2F20160319%2Fob_705de5_respect-1.png)
/image%2F0114774%2F20151206%2Fob_20138f_photo-oct-23-2-06-29-pm.jpg)
