I couldn’t sleep for 3 nights. The thought of a precious life, now missing from this world, haunted me. I felt sadness I never thought I would feel, not for a complete stranger, but the fact that this was avoidable made it so much worse.
 

Sunday afternoon, sometime in the fall. My aunt and uncle, only living a few blocks away from us, invited my family to a Dallas Cowboys watching party (I don’t know much about sports.) There was another family there. A small family of three, or so I thought. A mother, a father, and a young girl. They seemed like decently nice people, so I didn’t pay much attention to their presence. As a 16 year old girl, I preferred to spend time doing my usual useless activities; texting, talking, and eating more than I’m supposed to.
 

“You know, they have a son about your age,” my aunt said to me as we stood, talking secretly in the busy living room. “He preferred to stay home, lots of homework I guess. He’s a sweet kid. His name is Austin I think.”
I probably replied with a “yeah,” and a small nod, maybe even a smile. Not that I didn’t value her words, it’s just hard to think about things that aren’t tangible in that moment. She then asked me if I knew him, as he attended a nearby high school. I said no, I didn’t.
 

After a few hours of loitering around my aunt’s house, my little brother and I left. Notably before everyone else, because we had to be back at my moms house by 6pm.
 

I remember where I was when I received the text. It was nighttime, I was laying in bed, in the dark, probably close to the decision of sleep, but not quite there yet.
 

My phone vibrated in my hands as I read a message at the top of the screen. Under bold letters reading “Dad,” were the words “You know the people we met at Kathryn’s? They went home and found their son dead. He killed himself.”
 

 I could not believe what I had just read. My mind was racing, all I could think of was his little sister. She was a sweet, shy girl. I hope she is okay. There was no way to prepare such a young child for something like that.

 I began to cry. I cried for his family, his little sister, a girl of about 9 or 10, who watched him eat breakfast each morning. Maybe they all wished him goodbye as he left for school. I cried for his school friends, who shared his best laughs. Maybe they lent him their finished homework in desperate times. I cried for his neighbors, who watched him grow up. Maybe he sold them flyers for a school fundraiser. I cried for him. A precious life was gone.
I mourned someone who I hadn’t met. Today, I wish so bad that I could’ve met him that day. I would’ve initiated small talk, and shared a kind word or two. I think about all of the secondary, even tertiary characters in his life who may feel the same way I do, people he didn’t even know.

  The mark someone will leave in their lifetime is always greater than they think. When we think about who will miss us, we think about our parents, maybe our siblings and cousins. What about the cashier you get every time at Walgreens? The little girl on your street you always buy Girl Scout cookies from? Your soccer coach from elementary school? This isn’t a family issue. We all have people who will miss us, who think fondly of us from time to time, even if they don’t necessarily reach out to us every day. Everyone is loved, everyone has someone.