Anton Jungenberg (1989 - 2009)

Today I found out the news that you had died.
That you took your own life, and no one really knows why.
It was very surreal.

I am standing in Wal-Mart. Alone. Why am I here?
I walk slowly down the aisles, touching the different fabrics and wondering... why?
Why are you gone? Why did you do this? Why did this happen?
Why didn't anyone stop you?
Why didn't I?

My mind is filled with so many questions, none of which you can answer.
I am standing alone in Wal-Mart, tears welling up inside of me.
Do you know this? Can you hear me crying? Can you understand my pain?
Where are you now? What are you doing? Have you finally found the peace you were seeking? What is going to happen?

All of this thinking and questioning begins to choke me.
I need to hear a sound, a human voice, something other than this ambient nothing - the distant bleep-bleep of consumerism at the registers, the air conditioner and this cold, stale air which is sucking the precious life away from me.

I am still in shock. I cannot believe you are gone.
We made plans together, and many were still pending. When were you going to take me to the tunnels? Christmas break? I'm so sorry we couldn't go before you left for school... I was so busy... I start to hate myself for that. But when was I going to come visit you up at school? I promised I would and I really meant it.

I pick up my phone and call you... hoping, praying, pleading that this is all just a very bad joke and that you are still alive, still here, still breathing the air with the rest of us on the planet.
The very fact that I found out this news via your facebook must mean that it isn't true... I mean, it's the internet, how much can I really trust it?
The phone rings but the number "has been disconnected or is no longer in service."
I think to myself, so that's what happens to your phone number after you die...

And then the shock hits me again.
You are dead.
Everything I know about life and death and living is called into question.
I really don't know what happens to people after they die. I really have no idea.

I've been in this store now so long that I'm starting to get confused, numb. I walk by all of the televisions and it's just blur, blur, blur, meaningless blur. Everything here is meaningless. All I see are prices, products, pointless things that we say we need but that won't really add value to anything in life. Does saving more really mean living better? I don't think so.
The music from one of the televisions reaches out to me and stirs my soul, but it answers none of my questions.

In my head I will magnify every interaction that you and I ever shared.
They will become grand in my memory.
How we met at Grossmont, how you somehow remembered that we went to first and second grade together, how you always told me I was pretty in the strangest and sweetest ways possible, how you would awkwardly talk to me on facebook, how you made me laugh, how we went to the ghost together and played the scribble game, how we talked at school, how you gave me a ride that one day and all that we listened to was Norma Jean.
But the truth is: we were never really that close.
I never knew you like I could have.
You wanted me to teach you how to use your new camera and I never did.
You wanted to take me out to coffee and you never got to.
You made the weirdest jokes and I never understood them.
I never really took the time to understand them.
I never really rook the time to understand you.
I never knew you were in so much pain.
I never knew something like this could happen.
This is a tragedy.
This is eating me up inside.

David is here in the store. I meet him and he buys me chocolate and I tell him what happened. He tries to be light-hearted about it but he knows he cannot.
I'm glad he's here.
We sit outside together and look up at the sky.
I guess I can only breathe in deeply and thank God for the life I have been given.
I really don't know what else to do.

Anton, you were a wonderful person, you were sweet, funny, smart, an amazing artist, a great friend and I don't even know what else. I really wish I did.

Please, God please, I pray that you have found your peace.

And I guess, in the spirit of September 11, (and because I don't know what else to say) let us never, ever forget.