Dear Downers Grove North Class of 2015,
I know you are hurting, just as I am. This past week, one of our own left us and was taken by a horrible disease. Many of us are looking for answers. He was always so happy, always so fun to be around.
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He was the kind of guy that knew everyone's name, even if you weren't close. I'll admit that I wasn't close with him, and I can't imagine the magnitude of effects this has had on the people that were. I felt shock. I felt remorse, anger, sorrow, and so many other emotions when I was found out. Soon those emotions became so intense that they released in force that I did not know was within me. I grew numb and helpless.
When I found out, my brain immediately brought up his image. Him standing in the hallway smiling. I think that is the image many of you had when you heard the news, or even just heard his name.
What I did next was reach out to text my best friend and my other friends from back home. I was transported from Vienna to Downers Grove, back to the tile floors and locker walls of 4436 Main Street. I felt the weight of not only my emotions, but yours too. For in the moments that we all found out, we were connected in ways that time and space could never attempt to. We were all together, wherever we all were. Despite the grudges or broken relationships we had left behind, we were a community. A community that had lost one of our own.
I think one reason death is so hard is that it not only creates a wound in the heart, but it reopens the hole of past wounds. Of all the others we have lost, or the ones we fear we cannot bare to lose.
For many of you, he was the one you could not bare to think of life without. He was the one that cleared up your clouds and brought sunshine. Many of us asked if someone like him was so amazing, so energetic and outgoing and charismatic and bubbly, then what are we to do without him? If someone as sunny him felt so much pain that he had to go, what are we to do?
I don't know if I necessarily have an answer to that. And in no way is this letter a band-aid or a proclamation. Instead, I hope that my voice has given you power. The power to realize you are not alone in what you are feeling. You are not alone in your hurting and grieving. You are not alone in your confusion. We are all there, as I am sure he had been in the same place many times before.
Let him not be a reminder of the ultimatum of death. In my eyes, I see him as a reminder of why we should preserve our life. A reminder of why we should preserve our laughter, our relationships, and our love for one another. A reminder of the community we once were and the community we will always be.
If anything, I hope we can somehow come to terms with this. I hope that we can believe there is something here for us to do: to learn, or to explore , or to love.
Above all else, love one another. Cherish the memories you had with him, but also the memories of what he stood for. Do not aim to replace him, but to integrate him into your daily life. Tell a joke to someone even if you are just passing by them. Call the person you have wanted to talk to for ages, but have never had the courage to. Be the sunshine peaking through the clouds.
In our hour of sorrow, believe in hope and love. Know that there are people here to talk to you and people going through the same thing you are. Again, be genuine and exercise the power that love has.
May your hearts be a little less heavy. May your hearts be with him, with his family, and with each other.
May peace come to each one of you,
always yours
Isabella Ruggiero
Class of 2015
