Blizza Blizza

In a time of relative peace, in an upper-middle-class suburban environment, how many friends do you expect to lose before the age of 23? Think back to when you were 10 or 11. How many murder victims do you expect to know before you graduate college?

As those of you who visited in the last week noticed, Sunday afternoon was Peter Schwende’s memorial service. He died at the ripe old age of 20, on 25 May 2003, after a three-year battle with leukemia.

He was number six.

My senior year of high school, two friends who were enjoying their first summer back from college - one at MIT and one at Case Western - died in a car accident.

My sophomore year of college, my friend Neenef Odah shot his ex-girlfriend, Maggie Wardle, who was also a friend of mine. Neenef then turned the shotgun on himself.

As I walked back to my office at Pharmacia one morning in early September, 2001, I learned terrorists had just crashed two jetliners into the World Trade Center, where my friend Brad Hoorn had just taken a job with a financial firm after graduating from Yale. His office was on the 93d floor of the North Tower. No one ever heard from him again.

Six friends in five years. Six brilliant minds snuffed out before their time. Six people whose full potential was never realised. Six more than I ever hoped to know so well.

Peter, you will be sorely missed. One of these days, I’ll take up golf, and I’ll play those holes for you. I’ll always remember your incredible inner strength and positive attitude, how you got up there on the wall at Climb Kalamazoo despite having lost most of the physical strength in your arms and by golly, you were going to get some quality climbing in. Every time I pass a ski lift, I’ll remember that photo of you flying off a jump with your skis in a full cross, having the time of your life. And I’ll never forget that wonderful week at Lake Louise in the summer of ‘98, when you were the surrogate little brother I never had.

Somehow, there’s a reason to all of this. God has his plans for everything, I suppose. As I approach the age of 23, I realise how little I understand of this world. Two parents shouldn’t have to lose each of their jobs and a 20-year-old son within two weeks. There’s a lesson in there somewhere. I can only hope and pray that we all learn a little something from these difficult times. As Rev. Cindy said, we should do whatever we do with a little more style and panache, because that’s how Peter would have done it.

May God rest your soul, little brother. Keep an eye on those of us who are still left, would ya?