Life's tragedies

Hey all-
Sorry I haven't kept up lately. It's been a little crazy around the newsroom lately, trying to keep up to date with all of the events around the campus.
This last week the Cyclone family has lost one of its own, and by now it's well known what I'm talking about. The loss of Abel Bolanos has hit us all hard, and I can't even imagine how hard this time is on his friends and family.
Possibly one of the most disturbing things about Abel's death is the public's eagerness to point fingers immediately. Some blame Abel, some blame alcohol and some blame friends. Here's the thing: There's no finger to point. Alcohol consumption on campus is no secret. In fact, the way it would appear now, Abel and his friends did everything correct last Friday night. His friends took away his keys, and Abel chose to walk home. 100 times out of 100, that's the right thing to do. It's nearly impossible to convince an intoxicated individual to spend the night unless they want to, meaning if they want to walk, that's generally what happens.
Abel's death appears to be an accident. There are some questionable details right now, such as discrepancies in the time he left the party to the time he attempted to enter Wilson Hall, a vacant dorm across from his residence, Wallace.
Still, it appears to be a horrible accident. And as unfortunate as it is, accidents happen. There was no one at fault. The troubling thing for all of us is that no one understands why or how he ended up near Lake LaVerne. And it will most likely never become clear. So naturally we want answers and start pointing fingers, not to make others feel bad, but instead to get questions answered.
There are circumstances where fingers should be pointed. I should know.
Back when I was in eighth grade (1997) one of my friends, named Nicca, was on summer vacation with her family. Nicca was a year older than me, but I worked with her daily in our Jr. High Library. I'll never forget July 4 of that year, when my mom opened the door to the basement.
I was playing with Legos at the time. This is what I heard.
"Pat, did you know a girl with the last name Boley?"
I was only partially paying attention, and quickly replied no. About three seconds later, it hit me. So I jogged up the stairs, and asked my mom..
"Nicca?" I asked.
She froze. Most of the color dropped out of her face. I remember turning around to look at the TV, and seeing a crumbled, charred SUV on the 10 p.m. news.
The vehicle belonged to the Boleys. The entire family of four, Nicca, 14, her sister Krista, 12, and her parents were killed in the accident.
By a drunk driver.
There's a situation where fingers are to be pointed. The stupid decision making of one individual took the lives of four, FOUR human beings. I'm still upset about it. I don't think I have ever fully healed. My heart hurts sometimes, thinking of Nicca, who would now be 23 (my age) and Krista, who would now be 21. How wonderful their lives could have been. Where would they have gone to college? Neither one even got into high school. It was the summer before Nicca's freshman year at Naperville North High School, the same one I graduated from.
I was part of a group that created a mural that's still in Jefferson Junior High School, in remembrance of the Boleys. Death, especially sudden death, is always so terribly hard to handle.
It is impossible to ever understand. But I guess it's not our job to understand. It's our job to heal, and never let anyone forget about those we loved.
And that's where we are at as a university. It's important to heal, and important to educate. Most importantly, though, we need to come together and support each other for as long as it takes to heal. We'll never "move on." That's not even possible.
But we can take life for everything it's worth, and never take a moment for granted.
In fact, I think I'm going to go call family and friends and tell them I love them. You should do that, too.