It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that it has been exactly one month. One month since the lives of many have been altered. One month without, Dyllan Burrell.
May 8, 2018, a peaceful and still day. The sun was above, the breeze was flowing, the birds were chirping, and the world seemed to be moving at a glacial pace.
On that day, it felt as if it were going to be one of my best days in a long time. Until, around nine-thirty a.m. And it turned out to be the worst.
I met Dyllan in the hallways of Franklin High School. He was walking in the opposite direction. I could overhear him telling one of his usual jokes, that almost never made sense, but it made you burst out in the most childlike chortle. Dyllan, greeted me with the most jovial, “hello” one could ever imagine. His larger than life presence reminded me of what it felt like to be carefree.
Now that he is physically gone, I selfishly long to feel that exact feeling. Just one more time. However, it is my painful reality that, that is not going to happen. At least, not physically.
If there is one thing I have learned from Dyllan is that life is too short. Life is too short, to take it for granted. Dyllan, taught me to savor each moment. For we never know which can very well be our last.
From hearing, the melodious hymns that were sung at his memorial. To carrying, the pain of Dyllan's family at the homegoing ceremony. It dawned on me that, that is a vital component of the Franklin community. And that is our accountability for one another. I felt like I was apart of one large family. The Franklin family. A bond that is stronger, and more resilient than cement. A bond that is everlasting, and ever-changing. While saying my final goodbye, it became apparent to me that the pain I felt was only temporary inconvenience as I prepared for permanent improvement. We say goodbye, but in actuality, we only say, “see you, later.”
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