loukaitis

Do you think Andre laid on his bed during the summer and let the sun shine on his face, and do you think “Zeroday” was even a thought in his mind? Do you think the soft whirr of his ceiling fan brought him comfort on hard, rainy days, and do you think he enjoyed sitting in silence during late afternoons in the living room with his dad? Do you think he counted each steady breath in his mind as he fell asleep? Can you imagine how his face lit up the first time his father let him drive the car, or when he was hired at his first-ever job? How could a boy so solemn have a smile so pure that it could light up a thousand rooms? How could a boy so bright and intelligent make such a grave mistake? How could a boy with a mind full of energy spill his splintered thoughts across a classroom floor?

These are simple statements, meant to make you stop and imagine the ordinary, gentle details of his life. Why must we reduce him to a single headline or a final act? There is tension between who he was and what he did, but before anything else, Andre was a person. This is not me justifying his wrongdoings; this is me humanizing the situation and mourning.