Greatest Relationship Greatest Lost

 It is said somewhere in the world around us, "That when a man dies thousands will miss him." and not till recently had I an epiphany about what that means. Yet, the meaning behind the phrase about what I want to say. Well, not directly. In a way this is a way to purge my grief, and being a critical editor on myself as I am with the age I am, it may sound as shrieking to me, but I hope you see the depths in my meanings.

A highschool in Oregon- The morning began like any other typical friday. It was the day before Halloween and everyone was in their costumes for a spirit day. Some, I and three others were working in the bistro, music was playing and the highschool seemed so alive with spirit, emotion and not a single frown probably had come into exsistance yet. Some of us already knew the news about a man that was very close to many of us. His name, Jim Boxel.

As the first bell of the day rang through the halls an annoucment had ordered us to our advisory classes. None of us understood why. Even those of us that did know hadn't let the man's name, or what he was to nearly half of us sink in.

when I entered my advisory, people were still laughing and enjoying one another's company, yet there was another counselor beside our advisor who looked nearly in tears and after a second announcement the second advisor began reading a letter that was found in the newspaper and what people had seen on the news. That is when most of us realize what was going on. When I heard the name, I froze. I could feel my heart stop, my breath shallow and I was so far....alright. Some people began to cry then, our advisor who was best friends with him sat in her chair crying, which is to say something.....she never anything but happy.

A third and final announcement blared through the single quietest place of the world.To me it seemed alot like the world convention before WWII, the voice coming through the speaker to announce something terrible had happened to Poland. Yet now, it was the death of someone that anyone who knew him loved. We took a moment of silence when something finally sunk in and an anger in me began to boil. Yet, I forced back the tears as I looked as if nothing had happened, trying to forget everything.

Yet no matter where I went there was silence. The halls were alive with people, but dead with sound. People threw away brandnew breakfasts and coffees. Nothing was what we could do to fill the burning in our chest. I tried to keep neutral. No emotions spread across my face as I looked out into the life. Teachers gave everyone 100%s on tests and some of us sat around and watched Disney cartoons thanks to our Disney Club. Others, like me left to the safe room.

Dear friends of mine were in tears that flooded their cheeks and together hundreds of us at once fell into the library. I and four others sat in a circle. We were the most torn up amd ,my best friend of all time sat across from one another. He looked as though he were about to cry and I knew this brought back memories of his mother who died when he was 11. Another girl I knew was kbew to the school as well as her twin were crying from the death of their mother from suicide. And I was sitting there counting him as number 18 in the last three years. Yet, despite us all and their very valid sadness I began crying first.

The crying was sad and angry and everything and the two newest girls left first and then Jess. And eventually I was left alone. The safe room had seens nearly all of our students minus about 1000. Yet I was theonly one that stayed there until I couldn't. I hadn't felt so bad in all of my life. I had taken advantage of his help.

Last January, after the 16th person in my life was lost, I fell into deep deprsseion and Mr. Boxel had basically adopted me. My councelor was by far too busy with the seniors who were graduating. I told Mr. Boxel everything and he listened for three hours. He knew about every traumatic event in my life, he knows things about me my parents don't even know. Then, instead of calling the police to tell them he was worried about my mental state, he helped me. He got me into projects, helped my with things so I'd be ready for my junior year. He got me into clubs and helped me put my life back together. And not for one moment did I ask him about his wife at the end of the year. He'd had given me his number but never once did I call him for the 6 months he had been gone, not once did I ask about his four year old daughter, or ask him how his wife's pregnancy was going.

Yet, she came and visited me in the safe room. Along with every councelor in the state that I had ever had in the last five years. Sitting in the safe room, I found out his baby girl was to be born on my birthday and that he couldn't stop talking about me. Hoping that she'd turn out to be a mini me. Minus, of course the troubles and I cried.

I never did so many things I should have, and like I wanted to I should have called him last Wednesday and wished him hope in life. Yet, I never did. Then for fifth period, the final class of the day, I went to class. I wanted to give her strength to move on and I needed my solidity back in my life. So I sat down to only be told o write about a car for a freewrite. (For those of you who do not know what one is, it is basically sitting and writing for however long someone tells you to go for. No thinking is supposed to be involved) Yet what came out of my pencil was not about a car or focused on a development of a character, it was every emotions and how angry and sad, and weak I felt right then and there. And Monday I go up to my teacher after class and ask him to read over every single activity that we had done in the two weeks thus far.

And he told me that my writing sucked. That all except for one day, did I not expose any character emotion. And he flipped to the freewrite about the car and then told me, "Don't be such a critical artist. Thoug purging grief and emotions may sound like screaching and that may offend you and you might not allow yourself to write how you feel so wrong. Write it for others to read. For one's loss and realization can help another's failure to do the same."

So here is where I chose to right and I hope that this story helps you. Mr. Boxel was a good man and his legacy will live on through his students and his family. Yet, only if we remember him. So in Loving Memory Of Jim Bowel and may his Wife and Daughter be at peace. May he always shine strong for the truth and goodness always.