As the year comes to an end, and Rosh Hashanah nears, people enter a time of reflection as judgment is upon them. As I give thought to the past year, I cannot help but remember the last time I saw Michael. It was prom night, and I saw Michael step off the bus full of the rowdy, recently graduated seniors. I exchanged words with Michael for about a minute and he seemed happy, or at least I thought he did.

The following night I received a bizarre phone call from a friend. “Hey did you hear what happened to Michael?” “No, what happened?” “He died...” !

My friend’s words kept reverberating through my head, “he died...he died...”. The strange, dull shock prevented me from feeling sad; I was unable to properly process the gravity of the situation. I immediately went on Facebook and experienced what would appear to be an endless amount of “RIP Michaels” on my News Feed. The powerful messages of startled young men and women made it evident that Michael was a special person, a dear friend to many, and a unique individual. As I sat there pondering the moment, I thought about what such a tragedy would eventually amount to. How much did people really care that he died? How would students recover from the loss of such a friend? How would my life be directly affected by the loss of a school mate?

Michael’s legacy was revealed that night. As I read all the tributes on his Facebook page, all the kind words, and all the heartfelt messages, I began to think about what would have happened if all these people had said these things to him while he was still alive, before the gun. Could things have been different? If Michael had only been told 10% of the things that people wrote about him, maybe history would not have ended up the way it did. As a school, as a community of students, could we have changed his path, his fate? A compliment in passing, a friendly conversation, a pat on the back, or a quick laugh, may have led Michael down a different road.

At times, I find myself getting annoyed because everyone is so quick to act on gossip, and the "did you hear" negative information. In Michael’s memory and in his lasting legacy, I propose that this Rosh Hashanah, as judgment day nears, we all try and be a little kinder, gentler, and more understanding. Our words can be powerful tools for good. We should take the time to express positive thoughts before someone has left us. Perhaps it may save another friend, another child, and another family from torment.

May Michael’s memory be blessed.