Clare Beutler’s second-place winning ‘This I Believe’ essay
For the past several years, Stockbridge High School and the Stockbridge Friends of the Library have collaborated to offer an essay-writing contest in order to engage Stockbridge High School students in an exploration of the core beliefs that guide their daily lives. Held twice a year, the contest is based on NPR’s four-year-running and now defunct “This I Believe” program.
Winners of the semiannual “This I Believe” contest are in, and there is a third place tie between Xavier Curtis and Isabella Eccleton. The second-place winner is Clare Beutler. The first-place winner would like to remain anonymous, but we are happy to still be able to publish their essay.
SCN is pleased to publish second-place winner Clare Beutler’s essay below as SCN’s monthly student-written column. Be sure to check out last month’s issue for the second-place winning essays. The first-place winning essay will be published in our June edition.
by Clare Beutler
It was July 30th when we found out. It broke everyone’s hearts like a shattering plate. The sun was shining bright sending golden rays down to the Earth, the sky was the most beautiful shade of blue, without a cloud to be seen. You probably would have thought that it was going to be a good day, just as I did. I was in my happy yellow kitchen baking with my best friend for my sister Josie’s birthday when I heard a knock at the door. “Rattata.” A very soft knock, one that makes you feel as though the person on the other side is almost hopeful that it wasn’t audible enough to hear. The kind that brings only bad news about. I saw the lady at the door, recognizing her almost immediately. I invited her in but she said she’d rather wait on the porch. She then asked for my mom. I told her she was at work, and she then asked me if anyone else was home. I told her my oldest sister, Juleana, was. She asked if I could go and get her.
They sat outside and spoke in low voices, both began crying. I had a feeling no one should ever get. I knew her as Alex’s mom, and part of me hoped that I was wrong, but I knew something had happened. I knew what happened before I was even told. I knew that what I thought had happened.
Josie was crying out, “Nana!” The name we called our oldest sister. Josie wanted her to help her with her bathing suit. For her birthday, we were going to the lake, and while we baked and packed she got ready.
I heard Niki say, “Honey, can you give us a few minutes?” Upon seeing the tear fest, she gasped and backed away from the door, heading back upstairs.
I followed her upstairs because I saw the panic in her eyes. When I got to our room she was sitting on the floor, looking away from me. She was on her phone and had been texting frantically before I entered. She put it down when she heard me enter. She didn’t meet my gaze yet, just asked me a question.
“Why is she here?”
“To talk to Juleana. She asked for mom, but she’s at work.” Finally, she turned to me.
“What happened!? Where is Alex?”
She looked up at me as if I knew what was going on; I was as uninformed as she was. All I told her was that I thought something happened to Alex. I had nothing more to offer other than a hug. Everyone knew what happened before we actually knew. It’s just that we didn’t want to believe it.
Alex was like a brother to me. He was my brothers’ friend and our family‘s friend. He was so much more than that. I can’t put it into words. He was our brother. He wasn’t blood-related, but it sure felt like it. He went to church with us every Sunday, whether we asked him to or not. He was protective, threatened that no guys would ever deserve any of his sisters. He was our summer fun, fall bonfires, a garbage disposal, and an empty fridge. He was Alex.
I went back downstairs and Nana was standing there as if she had just seen a ghost. I asked her and she said he did it. My tears were an endless waterfall streaming down my face. Juleana told me not to tell Josie. I went back upstairs to see her. Josie grabbed onto me super tight as if she was falling. She asked once again if I knew; I said I didn’t, and she begged me to at least tell her what I thought it could be. I told her that I thought that he broke his promise a second time. She cried even more, falling to the floor as the carpet caught her. We had him promise us over a million times that he’d never try again.
I thought about the harsh reality of it as I walked slowly down the stairs. Last night our brother Alex had taken something he can’t get back; he took his own life. He never said goodbye, all his note said, was “I’m sorry. Pray for me” You can’t know how it feels to lose someone to suicide unless you go through it yourself. I pray you never do. I have cried my tears and have been sad but now I just count the days until I can see him again and when I can hug him. I know he is in a place where angels sing to the King, a place we will all go someday, a place where all the pain is taken away, where you can just be at peace.
When I think about this day I just wished I would have hugged him and said “I love you” one last time. Even if you get into a fight with someone, always say “I love you” because nobody knows when they are going to lose someone who they care dearly about. The words “I love you” are the most important words that a person can hear. I wonder if the outcome could have been different if Alex just heard them one more time.
