He was a friend of my younger brothers when they were in grade school. I haven't since him since he was about 10. He was 17 when he laid down on the tracks.
Our aqquaintance was incidental back when I lived in my old neighborhood, and I know NOTHING about the half-man he had become..but for some reason I can't shake this horrible feeling.
You see, when I moved away from West Chicago, I was 14 years old. In my mind, nothing changed there. I left the little boys, and the neighborhood and the houses frozen in time...and to me, it's not a 17 year who killed himself, it's 10 year old kyle, missing a tooth.
I have no right to mourn this boy. I haven't thought of him once since I left, but his purposeful death is jarring to me,
Thoughts? Comments? Ideas?
I'm just trying to find a way to steady myself. It's strange since this isn' an immediate loss, all my coping techniques don't apply. There's not a void left inside me, just a startling realization that one can never go home again.