A young man at Tristan's school killed himself over the weekend.
There's really no easy way to type that out. It seems so succinct, almost too succint, and yet, it's also precisely what happened, in black and white.
Nathan Flint was his name. He was a 9th grader. Tristan had Jazz band and symphonic band with him. I've seen him many times at concerts. I may have even had him in class a couple of weeks ago when I subbed at the school.
Tristan reacted with shock. I tried to tell him gently, but there really is no way to soften that news. He and his dad were on their way to Scouts, and Tristan did quite a bit of crying over it. He chatted with another adult at church, and by the time he got home, he was back to the macho-man "I'm fine, Mom." *big sigh*
You and I know, from our adult perspective, just how senseless this is. What a horrible waste of a wonderful life. He was a talented guitar player in Jazz band. Clearly, from the reactions I'm seeing in the neighborhood and school, he was cared for, but it would seem that he couldn't see that for his own pain.
My heart breaks today for this young life, taken far too soon, and for his grieving mother, who's now left alone.
I pray that Nathan has found the peace he sought, and that his mother will too.
Here's his obituary from the local paper. Tristan cut it out of my paper this morning before I even got up. I'll be buying another copy of the paper today.
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