Like a lot of people in our community, I'm sure, I've been spending a lot of time thinking about life and love and grief and death recently, as we've all been rocked by the news of yet another tragic death by suicide.
I know that for many young ones who were close to Colby Donovan, it was their very first experience of such loss, and I grieve for the bit of their innocence that they lost as they absorbed the sorrowful news. Teenagers have it the hardest, of course, as this might be their first significant experience of tragedy.
My ponderings have been more general than specific. I didn't know Colby, and I don't know his family. I do know a few people who were close to him. I can imagine their grief to a certain degree, having lost a sweet friend in high school to a very similar tragic death, but I don't pretend to know exactly what they're going through. And I don't want to hurt those really close to Colby more than they've already been wounded by his death, so I'm choosing my words carefully.
Here's the thing: Because of Facebook and other social media, there's a public nature to the outreach to Colby's family that didn't exist when I was in high school. Everyone wants to provide comfort, even though we all know that no words can heal the hurt they've endured; no amount of love expressed can bring Colby back. That said, it's always worth expressing love.