We Miss You Both

Philip Silverman, a member of our senior class, died this morning. At around 3:00 A.M. his friend fell asleep at the wheel. The driver and a third friend have been in intensive care.

The student body seemed in a daze. At some point I stopped asking the tear-stained faces if they knew Philip. Does it really matter? I didn't know him. It is so upsetting how many people a person can meet posthumously.

How many times the story of the accident was retold, I can't count. "A.J. was driving, Jimmy was in the back. Philip's dead." Dead. Dead? Really? He's eighteen. He knew people I know! He's not ever coming back? They won't ever be the same? They will have to live without him for the rest of their lives...

This is the problem death presents to me. Dr. House, my reigning favorite on-air diagnostician, stated that everyone would cry like a baby when told of their imminent death. I am not afraid to die. I will admit I am afraid of some routes that could take me there, but I am not afraid of being dead. I am afraid of who will live without me. I am terrified of living my life without those people. I want to outlive everyone I love.

I hate impossible needs.

The cynical side of me, or the realist, finds this and wonders who it will be. Who will die in my graduating class? Whose death will shake the school, as well as my life? I don't want to think about it. I can't help it. I have felt as if tragedy is impending for some time now. I am hoping to train myself to cope with it, when it comes. How ignorant is that? I can't ever know. I just can't ever know. I would rather not ever know. But...see above.

I apologize for my rambling, and the unoriginality of this topic. It's been a long, hard day.

Rest in peace, Philip. Not to mention Kurt Vonnegut... We miss you both.