Stories from school

We partied that night. We drank, socialized and went to bed buzzed. We had expectations the next twenty weeks would be smooth and we were all going to be great friends. It is naive to believe such, but we hold on to our hopes going forward and try to take the best paths through life. Waking up one morning, that naivety was laid bare and a harsh dose of reality was given to the school and its students.
A student from Africa had died following the party. We cried and held our services. A chior was formed for his service at the school and we tried to be somber. We reacted our different ways. I suppose my reaction to death annoys others. The reaction some other people have towards death annoys me as well. I guess if we snip at each other, we really just want to distract ourselves from what just happened. Following his death, we kept a little closer eye on each other. We didn't talk much about him afterwards, but I suppose we kept his memory alive when we took a student who had a little too much to drink to the hospital. She had become unresponsive after drinking plenty of champaign. Still, few would be able to give you his name today. Life went on and his death wasn't going to stop us from doing exactly what we gathered at IPC to do.


When a group came to visit Kalø who had also attended IPC, news about the death leaked out to a previous student of IPC. I do not play death up that much. His memory was resurected one last time when she asked me about that death. It isn't exactly unpleasent, but I am hard pressed to say much about the man in the first place. His death seemed so remote from my life shortly after the service. I of course felt sorry for his family and still do, but in the end, I am over it, moved on.



I think I said what I can about him. I think I should ask a former class mats to say a few words about Gideon.

  I remember the guy who passed away during our term. That was really shocking accident for me because it was my first time to encounter the REAL death of my close person. You know that I was hanging around the basement so often because I liked to spend my time with beer and music. He (I cannot remember his name anymore) was also there so often having the glass of alcohol on the sofa. I talked with him sometimes. He was always quiet and just smiling at me all the time. He always tried to listen to my poor English and tried to understand me. That was really tender attitude....

After that, I remember lots of scenes of mourning for his death. The students from Africa were sitting very close each other wearing blankets in the lobby and singing "amazing grace". I've never heard such a sad "amazing grace".
There was an assembly of his death. We made circle by hand in hand. My next person was a teacher Greg. At that time I felt very sad, but could not cry. I actually could not know how to express my sadness even though I wanted to cry like friends around me. I was just shaking. Greg was holding my hand very strongly, I remember....

 It's a good thing to remember the old days. We sometimes need to recall our past.

 Akiko, Japan