We got the call at 5:18 a.m. on a Tuesday morning in 2010. It felt like time stood still.
During my senior year of high school, my aunt Chris passed away after a long fight with cancer. While she lived in my parents’ house as she went through treatment, I tried my best to remember little moments with her because I never knew when I’d lose the chance to make those memories. She was the bravest woman I’ve ever known, and there were no answers to my continuous questioning, “Why did this have to happen to her?”
Bree Moore, a girl from my hometown, passed away in June. She was just one year younger than me. I would see her at volleyball games when our schools played each other, her crazy blonde curls pulled back from her face. Three weeks ago, her boyfriend shot her in the head. I didn’t even know her, but I found myself crying for her and her family in my Colorado College dorm room, more than 3,000 miles away. She was so young and so beautiful. That same unsettling question arose in my mind. Why?
Bobby Goodin died doing what he loved, racing in the Pikes Peak Hill Climb. That’s what stuck out to me the most as I read and listened to the news. Is the fact that he died while doing something he loved supposed to make his death any easier to bear for his family? I had just been up there a few days before interviewing drivers during their practice runs. How could he be gone? More to the point, why is he gone?
My dad used to tell me when I was a little girl that life just isn’t fair. Here I am at 21 years of age and I still feel like that same little girl, questioning everything. When will I be able to wrap my head around the idea that horrible things just happen? Maybe I’m naïve, but part of me doesn’t want to understand. For now, I’m just going to keep asking the same question.
Taylor Coberly-Vincek is an undergraduate at Colorado State University. Follow her on Twitter @taylorjane_c