Thanksgiving, 2010 to be specific. To my family, Thanksgiving is one excuse to gather the whole family into a single room, although it has not stopped us from eating the turkey and sides in separate parts of the house. Although skeptical, I was glad to go wait with my sister for Black Friday sales. Walmart was my sister's destination of choice.
People were gathered in lines down rows of clothing and food, waiting for their chance to buy a television or some other product they could only afford that night. While waiting for a laptop I began receiving frantic texts and calls.
According to many of my friends, one of our own had been in an accident. I contacted my parents at home to look up details of what was happening. My dad found a news report containing the facts. Earlier that evening, a family out driving was hit from the side by a semi-truck. Karalee Lewis, one of my classmates, and her father did not survive the ordeal. My initial reaction was complete disbelief, but the cracked voices of the calls convinced me this was real. Nothing I had learned in the past told me what I should do, how I should act in this situation.
My mind was falling apart while totally blank all in the same moment. After an hour of intense emotion I walked over to the aisle with art supplies. I found myself some number two pencils and a sketchbook. After purchasing those items, I sat down, pulled out my phone, pulled up a picture of Karalee, and started sketching. Despite the low resolution screen, I attempted to get every little detail down, hoping that I could start to contain her profile, how she looked, what made her, her. I was afraid of her becoming simply a memory.
Everyone wore their Sunday best the following Monday. The sophomores weren't sure what was going on. The juniors were somewhat a part of the situation. The seniors weren't fully there. Anywhere you turned was the distraught face of a student or faculty member. Throughout the week the everybody brought an item to put under the tree at the south end of the school. The base was blanketed underneath flowers, photos, and other objects. The base was wrapped with a crimson red bow. The tree was back to normal the week after, but a heavy cloud still remained.
The semester continued. Those who applied themselves to school did just that, using their studies to keep their thought occupied. Others did not. As head of our Yearbook's staff, I was able to get a head count the following semester: somewhere between ten and twenty percent of the seniors did not maintain their grades to return. I don't blame them.
The year finished itself with time. People were back to their normal selves, for the most part at least. The dark cloud was gone, but everything was still off. The packed hallways of UCAS seemed less crowded. At times it felt like other people did not exist, that you were alone on campus. There was only looking forward, heading towards graduation.
The month separation between UVU's April graduation and UCAS's May graduation was a grueling wait. I didn't know what to anticipate. Once all the seniors walked across the stage to accept their diplomas, there was silence. Everyone sat down except for our Principal. In a manner fitting of a school official, Principal Baron spoke on the death of one of our own, finishing off the ceremony by allowing Karalee to graduate. While her mother walked across the stage to accept the diploma, students began applauding. One student rose, then two, then the rest.
My friends tried to hold each other up, while others slipped through the cracks. We didn't come out unscathed, but we kept our sanity. I know I wouldn't have lasted the semester if it wasn't for the support of those around me. I imagine they still reminisce over UCAS.
I have tried my best to become more involved with my family. While my sister and I still bicker from time to time, we've stopped being hostile towards each other. While my family still isn't as strong as others, we try to find time to be together. I hope we can remain a family while we're still here.
