Good Night, Sweet Prince

I’ve been feeling really sad for the past few days, and chose not to do any posting when I was feeling that way. I know that friends are there to help when we’re struggling with something, and I appreciate that, believe me. But I sometimes do much better when I just disappear into my own head for a while and do the initial sorting out on my own. Eventually I surface when I’m ready to talk, though, so don’t ever think that I’m going to disappear forever!

One of Stephanie’s friends from high school died a week or so ago. A wonderful young man has left this earth, and his parents have lost their only child. It’s a sad enough story in itself, but it seems to have brought one of my greatest, hidden fears to the surface over the past couple of days. I can’t even begin to imagine what his parents are feeling right now, but we came so close to being in their shoes, and the mere thought of it still makes me shake like a leaf and want to throw up. I hadn’t thought about it in quite some time because we know why it happened, and it’s pretty unlikely that it will ever happen again. She doesn’t actually have a death wish, thank God. Rather, the dark thoughts were the result of an unusual adverse reaction to a new medication, and she found the strength to pull back from the edge on her own and reach out for help before the cliff edge came closer again. But the sickening fear that came with that scare leaves a mark on the core of a mother’s being that never quite goes away.

All young people are special and it’s incredibly sad when any one of them has their life cut short for any reason. But this lad was so unusual in the way that he had a lasting impact on anyone who met him. I only had one proper conversation with him and only saw him briefly a few times after that, but he left a permanent imprint on my heart and mind. As he did with Stephanie and his other friends. He was a big, strapping lad for his age, but such a gentle soul. Big-hearted, compassionate, and a true gentleman through and through, even at such a young age.

Even though I spent so little time with him, I feel a true sense of loss knowing that he’s gone. He had a job counselling troubled youths. His friends loved him to bits, and I’m sure that I’m not the only one whose life was made better by just a few brief encounters. The memory of our one lengthy chat has always made me smile, and always will.

Sam, you are missed by many. A quote from “Hamlet” would probably make you roll your eyes, but it popped into my head as soon as I heard the news, and it’s the most fitting farewell that I can think of for you.

“Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince,

And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!”

I’ll never forget you, young man.

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5 thoughts on “Good Night, Sweet Prince

  1. It disturbed me to read on line yesterday evening that the suicide rate is up for young girls aged 10-14 years old here in the US…As a teen I looked into that abyss but thankfully did not carry through!I like the quote and just want to offer you a (((hug))) and one for Stephanie too!!

  2. Two years ago, during the summer months, I was saddened to lose two young friends; one the son of a dear friend, the other a work colleague. I was at a loss as to what to say to their parents. Both were only sons. Truly tragic. *nodding in agreement with you*

  3. So sorry to hear of a life taken way too soon. My sincere condolences on this sad loss..hugsSorry if this publishes twice but I keep getting an error message…

  4. Thanks so much for the comments, hugs, condolences, etc., ladies. I passed the thoughts on to Stephanie, too. Or rather, she saw them herself. Some of you will have noticed that some editing was done after I first posted this. Stephanie came in and did that, with my blessing. She's doing fine, but it's a tough thing for all of the friends to get their heads around.You're certainly right about drugs and alcohol robbing the world of too many bright young people, Diane. Besides being smarter in that way, I just wish that kids would realize that they aren't alone in this world and that whatever they're feeling at the time won't be forever.You're certainly right about not knowing what to say, Elle. I don't know the parents at all, so haven't spoken to them, but just trying to think of the right things to say to the young ones is hard enough. It must have been so tough for you, being so closely acquainted with the parents. :(I had no idea, Tammy. 😦 I can't even begin to imagine what that kind of despair feels like. I've had some pretty rotten times in my life, including an unhappy childhood, but I've never once felt like I didn't deserve or want to be alive. I'm not judging you in any way, believe me, or trying to make out that I'm stronger than you are. I guess that I've just been lucky enough to always know that somebody believed in me and cared about me, even if it wasn't the ones who should have cared most.Sorry about the error message, Susie. I have no idea what that was about, but please let me know if it happens again. I'm not thrilled with the comments attached to this layout anyway. There's a bug somewhere in the coding, as you shouldn't have to enter your details every time you leave a comment. This layout was just meant to be temporary while Stephanie got the new domain up and running for me. It was easy to upload and didn't need a lot of tweaking right off the bat. Once I decide exactly which new one I want for autumn, she'll get it up for me. Decisions, decisions! 🙂

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