Gone: Surreal Days
Thursday was a strange day for me. And it all has to do with that night, exactly a year before. But first, some background-
In marching band, everyone is separated into "sections" containing their instrument, or sometimes some closely related instruments will be a section together (like flutes and piccalos). These sections are all under 20 kids, and for the trumpets, it's an average of 17-18 kids. Because of how much we do, in those 6 months between June's Band Camp 1 and November's State Championship, we spend probably about 1000-2000 hours together. It is true that many kids date within the band, but usually it's not within a section. We're more like siblings.
I was a sophomore. And we had this one kid who was a freshman. And Canadian. And short. But the most hilarious and entertaining guy ever. You never not wanted to be around him. He also wore these super big and colorful shoes that were like bright orange. Plus he always wore snapbacks. He had braces, but the cutest smile. and even though he was so short (and a freshman!) he had this surprisingly deep voice that I came to love. Of course, you couldn't go wrong with his accent. Saskatoon, Saskatchewan was where he was from. Tongue twister if I ever saw one. I could never say it. :) He would laugh at us try. His name was Mason. The kind of guy who works out a good bit, plays music, and told stories or whatever he was telling people and he got REALLY into. He would talk so fast, entirely animated, sometimes you wouldn't know what he was saying, and pretty much nothing would stop him from finishing. That's just the way he told things. You didn't even have to be paying the most attention. We usually did. But we would tease him about it, and one time I talked at the same time to him and our group as he was talking about something. I spent less than a minute of his story talking about how I could say anything and he wouldn't stop talking. It was probably only 15 seconds max. But he played along, and true to his character, didn't stop talking. I still can't figure out how he managed to continue on and not laugh at me. He was such a jokester. You could even interject into whatever he was saying, "Mason say swag" and he'd go blah blah blah swag blah without blinking an eye. It was impressive. And I think he knew it. I'm also fairly certain that he made sure to keep his Canadian accent think, and not lose it.
I got my wisdom teeth out in the first week of April during spring break, and ended up taking the first week back to school off as well. That Wednesday, I was a little doped up on my recovery medicines (oral surgery is pretty intense) and watching instant Netflix with my mom. Gossip Girl, if you're curious. That show's crazy. We were watching, I had an icepack on my face, and I get this Facebook message from one of my band friends asking "Did you hear about Mason?" As I was fairly out-of-loop about the last week of school, and it was an old time for a random message on a school night (it was probably about 9 or 10), I had no idea.
To hear that somebody that seemed like such a happy person killed themselves is beyond disbelief. It's unfathomable. It is so hard to take in. The shock you feel is so utter, so consuming, that it quickly becomes the only thing you can think about at the time.
I immediately called of the other trumpets whom I was very close with, to confirm. They had been really good friends, so I knew he would be one of the first people to have known, and that he would be in the group of those hit the hardest by it.
My mom took me straight to the neighborhood where both boys lived because that's where some of the trumpets and people that were closer in that circle of friends were at. The rest of the night is a blur with really clear pictures of different points of time during it. When I got there, I started crying right there in the road with everybody and got hugged by Logan, who was our head drum major. There were a lot of hugs, walking around in front of the house, crying, parents talking... We had a circle of prayers at one point. We ended up in the house at some point, and one of the girls made lemon bars. We were sitting upstairs in their game room in the dark with slightly under-cooked lemon bars at like 2am right before I had to go home.
The next day I was taking off anyways, but our principal was being incredibly nice in allowing all the band kids to spend the day in the band room or to leave school. We went and painted the 34th Street Wall for him. The Wall, if you don't know, is this random wall next to a street in gainesville near UF that everyone paints on whenever they want. It's like a graffiti free-space, place to write congrats announcements, or just paint for the heck of it. But police will never bust you for it, because it's been painted on for years. For example, my parents painted it right before my birth, around 17 years ago, and it was sooo not a new thing then either (I don't think). The length of it is probably close to a football field. I'm not sure. But our painting probably reached nearly 25 yards at one point.
He looked so wrong in the coffin. It was terrible. They cut his hair and combed it. It just wasn't him. The funeral was hard especially because of all the pictures that were shown. They asked for the band to play two songs for it. That was the hardest.
His mother said she would spread his ashes in Florida and Canada because he loved both as his homes. That seemed right to me too.
Don't ever think you are less than you are. You aren't. Everyone is on earth for a reason. If you need help, get it. If anyone comes to me, I will do my best, but otherwise, you can call:
1-800-SUICIDE
1-800-273-TALK
1-877-YOUTHLINE (to talk to a teen)
1-866-488-7386 (The Trevor Project for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender or questioning youth)
Or the Gainesville, FL # for the Crisis Center is:
352-264-6789
If you notice the picture I have as my profile picture, it is us with the State Championship banner for Marching Band. Mason is near the front. If a picture is worth a thousand words, that picture is worth so many more.
~See you someday
In marching band, everyone is separated into "sections" containing their instrument, or sometimes some closely related instruments will be a section together (like flutes and piccalos). These sections are all under 20 kids, and for the trumpets, it's an average of 17-18 kids. Because of how much we do, in those 6 months between June's Band Camp 1 and November's State Championship, we spend probably about 1000-2000 hours together. It is true that many kids date within the band, but usually it's not within a section. We're more like siblings.
I was a sophomore. And we had this one kid who was a freshman. And Canadian. And short. But the most hilarious and entertaining guy ever. You never not wanted to be around him. He also wore these super big and colorful shoes that were like bright orange. Plus he always wore snapbacks. He had braces, but the cutest smile. and even though he was so short (and a freshman!) he had this surprisingly deep voice that I came to love. Of course, you couldn't go wrong with his accent. Saskatoon, Saskatchewan was where he was from. Tongue twister if I ever saw one. I could never say it. :) He would laugh at us try. His name was Mason. The kind of guy who works out a good bit, plays music, and told stories or whatever he was telling people and he got REALLY into. He would talk so fast, entirely animated, sometimes you wouldn't know what he was saying, and pretty much nothing would stop him from finishing. That's just the way he told things. You didn't even have to be paying the most attention. We usually did. But we would tease him about it, and one time I talked at the same time to him and our group as he was talking about something. I spent less than a minute of his story talking about how I could say anything and he wouldn't stop talking. It was probably only 15 seconds max. But he played along, and true to his character, didn't stop talking. I still can't figure out how he managed to continue on and not laugh at me. He was such a jokester. You could even interject into whatever he was saying, "Mason say swag" and he'd go blah blah blah swag blah without blinking an eye. It was impressive. And I think he knew it. I'm also fairly certain that he made sure to keep his Canadian accent think, and not lose it.
I got my wisdom teeth out in the first week of April during spring break, and ended up taking the first week back to school off as well. That Wednesday, I was a little doped up on my recovery medicines (oral surgery is pretty intense) and watching instant Netflix with my mom. Gossip Girl, if you're curious. That show's crazy. We were watching, I had an icepack on my face, and I get this Facebook message from one of my band friends asking "Did you hear about Mason?" As I was fairly out-of-loop about the last week of school, and it was an old time for a random message on a school night (it was probably about 9 or 10), I had no idea.
To hear that somebody that seemed like such a happy person killed themselves is beyond disbelief. It's unfathomable. It is so hard to take in. The shock you feel is so utter, so consuming, that it quickly becomes the only thing you can think about at the time.
I immediately called of the other trumpets whom I was very close with, to confirm. They had been really good friends, so I knew he would be one of the first people to have known, and that he would be in the group of those hit the hardest by it.
My mom took me straight to the neighborhood where both boys lived because that's where some of the trumpets and people that were closer in that circle of friends were at. The rest of the night is a blur with really clear pictures of different points of time during it. When I got there, I started crying right there in the road with everybody and got hugged by Logan, who was our head drum major. There were a lot of hugs, walking around in front of the house, crying, parents talking... We had a circle of prayers at one point. We ended up in the house at some point, and one of the girls made lemon bars. We were sitting upstairs in their game room in the dark with slightly under-cooked lemon bars at like 2am right before I had to go home.
The next day I was taking off anyways, but our principal was being incredibly nice in allowing all the band kids to spend the day in the band room or to leave school. We went and painted the 34th Street Wall for him. The Wall, if you don't know, is this random wall next to a street in gainesville near UF that everyone paints on whenever they want. It's like a graffiti free-space, place to write congrats announcements, or just paint for the heck of it. But police will never bust you for it, because it's been painted on for years. For example, my parents painted it right before my birth, around 17 years ago, and it was sooo not a new thing then either (I don't think). The length of it is probably close to a football field. I'm not sure. But our painting probably reached nearly 25 yards at one point.
He looked so wrong in the coffin. It was terrible. They cut his hair and combed it. It just wasn't him. The funeral was hard especially because of all the pictures that were shown. They asked for the band to play two songs for it. That was the hardest.
His mother said she would spread his ashes in Florida and Canada because he loved both as his homes. That seemed right to me too.
Don't ever think you are less than you are. You aren't. Everyone is on earth for a reason. If you need help, get it. If anyone comes to me, I will do my best, but otherwise, you can call:
1-800-SUICIDE
1-800-273-TALK
1-877-YOUTHLINE (to talk to a teen)
1-866-488-7386 (The Trevor Project for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender or questioning youth)
Or the Gainesville, FL # for the Crisis Center is:
352-264-6789
If you notice the picture I have as my profile picture, it is us with the State Championship banner for Marching Band. Mason is near the front. If a picture is worth a thousand words, that picture is worth so many more.
~See you someday
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