Braeden

About two weeks ago, a sophomore boy at my school committed suicide. It really took its toll on me and the other students in my school. I attended his funeral, and cried my way through it. I'm not sure why I wanted to  be there so badly - perhaps to make up for my lack of emotion at my teacher's funeral in August? I'm not sure, but I tried to find a way then to untangle my troubled heart and thoughts.

Still at the service, still sitting in the pew with my best friend's family - I found a piece of paper and a pen and began writing:

His death? It's actually my fault. I recognize Braeden from this picture - and he is just a face I saw at school.  How is it that I can pass so many people without giving them a second thought? If I had slowed my pace, and maybe took the time to get to know that face I wouldn't be sitting in a funeral that wasn't supposed to happen. How many other Braedens are out there? In my classes? In my ward? In my home? I have become so selfish and have grown accustomed to only worrying about myself. I cry to myself over boys, while someone else - someone close to me- might be crying themselves to sleep over the thought of  ending their life. It's amazing how the focus can change within the blink of an eye- the pull of a trigger. And it has to take an innocent life to do that? These thing are preventable, and it makes me sick to when people are suddenly asking, "Who was this kid?" - especially when I'm the one with those words on my lips. Should it really take a death to make me want to do more for others? Should it take a death for me to start paying attention to the quiet kids in class? Should it take a death to realize that we all truly belong to each other?

The only way to prevent a suicide isn't by putting uplifting posters on the walls at school... it's by the choices that are essential to make now to love, respect, and uplift those nameless faces around us. You just never know.