by He was only 17
296 words (2 minutes)It's hard to talk about this. I mean, I know it's been a few months since he passed, but... a few months is not that long if you think about it.
I used to think that a month was like an eternity. I was so young and naive back then. I know better now. I know that 100 years isn't long enough to love everyone, and when you're only given a small part of that 100 years, it doesn't leave much time to argue over petty things.
I'm not quite sure that we ever argued. I mean, we hardly ever talked. But there was that one time we spent the weekend at Hidden Lake with some friends. Until the day I die, I'm sure that will have been the best weekend of my life. I'm sure of it.
It wasn't his fault he died. He was only 17 for Christ sake! How could God have taken him from us, where he was loved? How could He do that to us? We all loved him so much.
Even now, a few months later, I'm still denying it. You can't get me to admit he's gone. I mean, I still search the school hallways looking for him... (hesitates, and starts crying) only to find that he's not there. You won't hear me say the words, "He's dead." It won't happen. Not now, and I'm not quite sure I will ever be able to say them.
17 years isn't a long life. He had so much going for him. He was a wonderful person. 17 years is not long enough for him to have blessed us. (Wipes tears from her eyes) I still miss him. I know I always will. He was only 17. Is it really possible?