Gone too soon...

To many people, the colors orange and black are symbolic of Halloween.

To the community of LaPorte, Indiana it is symbolic of Slicer pride.

On September 25^th, Junior Linebacker Jake West, a 17-year-old LaPorte High School student, was running laps on Kiwanis Field during practice as he had done many times before.

Yet, on that day, the outcome was very different.  Jake collapsed on the field and was pronounced dead a short time later at IU Health – LaPorte Hospital.  It was later determined that he had an undetected condition referred to as right ventricular cardiomyopathy.

Days later, the town would be drenched in a sea of orange and black, showing support for the friends and family of the young football player. Over 3,300 members of the community sat in the stands at Kiwanis Field to pay tribute and say goodbye to Jake. 

Seventeen years doesn’t seem like a large enough amount of time to make an impact, but it was for him.  Whether you knew Jake or not, his message or impact on others, was simply not to take life for granted, but to live each day to its fullest. 

I was impressed by area football programs that paid tribute to the team and to Jake by wearing orange and black socks or hanging the jersey #26, which was Jake’s number, on the sideline during the game.

On Friday night as I scrolled through Jake's Tribute page on Facebook, I was proud to be a Slicer. I was reminded of another time, nearly 20 years ago, when the community pulled together because of the loss of another student.  This time, it was completely different circumstances, with many similarities.

LaPorte High School student, Rayna Rison, was a junior when she disappeared from her after school job.  Time passed before her family was told she had been found dead several miles from where she had last been seen. Much like Jake, Rayna’s death came way too soon in her life and her family and friends were left wondering why they weren’t given the chance to say goodbye.

During Rayna’s disappearance, and even today as they are seeking justice for the man allegedly responsible for her death, the community showed their support for the family by wearing orange ribbons.

I think back to when Rayna disappeared.  I was only a Sophomore at LaPorte High School and I knew Rayna, but she was just an acquaintance and someone I knew from being in a few clubs together. I remember the somber feeling of being in school with those that knew her well.  I bet the feeling is quite similar at LaPorte High School this week.

LaPorte High School has a population of roughly 1,890 students.  I feel for the students in his classes who are missing Jake and his presence in the classroom. I feel for his fellow Football team members who will continue to mourn his loss on the field. But I’m honored to be a Slicer and honored to wear orange and black in memory of Jake West and Rayna Rison, two 17-year-olds who impacted the lives of many people they never even met.   

It was a pretty Sunday afternoon, the sun was shining and it was a bit warmer than it had been in a while.

And then, there were sirens. The only time I heard that many sirens before was when there was an emergency landing at the airport. I figured once again, that that was the issue. Only this time, it was a bit different.

I looked out the window and saw the fire engines make their way about a half mile north to the airport. I didn’t see any visible signs of trouble and continued doing my normal weekend household chores.

About 20 minutes later I got a text from a friend of mine that said that a small plane had made an emergency landing and crashed on a house on Iowa Street in South Bend.

My mind immediately flashed to a friend of mine’s father whom I knew lived on Iowa Street, I just wasn’t sure which block.

I turned on the news and highlights flashed on the screen but I couldn’t tell.

Throughout the course of the week, residents of South Bend were brought up to date about what had happened with the plane, who the passengers were, and who the homeowners where.

PatriciaKobalski, whose home was impacted the most, shared with us her most intimate fears of how the plane crashed into her home and how she and her six-year-old son had made it out of her home without harm.

Neighborsshared their recollection of how they looked out their windows and saw a small engine plane fly into the homes of their neighbors and friends.

Immediate messages questioned whether there were survivors and whether or not there were people home at the time the small plane invaded Iowa Street on a Sunday afternoon on St. Patrick’s Day.

After all, this was the home of the Irish and it was St. Patrick’s Day, right?

In a way, I guess so. I guess it depends on who you talk to.

At the end of the day, two people were dead, three people were injured and several others were temporarily homeless.

Due to a fear of a natural gas leak and then a jet fuel leak, about 70 residents living on nearby streets were temporarily displaced.

Throughout the following days, there were round the clock updates about the homeowners, the crash scene, the pilots and their passengers and much more.

As residents, we eagerly listened for any updates on the people we might know and hoped that the survivors were well taken care of.

My friend’s father was ok. His home however, was the third home that was struck by the plane. This was his home. It was the place he had spent the past 55 years of his life. At 80+ years, his memories of his late wife, their neighbors, his sons growing up in the place he called home, probably flashed before his eyes many times as rescue units lined curbs of Iowa Street.

If you hadn’t heard of Iowa Street before March 17, 2013, you had heard about it without a few hours.

It wasn’t until about 8pm on March 24^th that I drove by Iowa Street.

I’m not sure why. I thought about it earlier in the week, but in a way I thought it was disrespectful. Two people died and many people’s lives were totally turned upside down. It seemed sad to gawk at their disbelief.

But today felt different for some reason. I drove slowly down the street, almost as if I was sneaking up on the scene.

In one week, all the fire engines, ambulances, big wig NTSB plane people and others had cleared the scene.

I was sad.

In one week, the owners of these three houses were totally displaced. There homes had been the scene of a national tragedy. A plane had nose-dived into the living room of one of the homes. Seventy residents had been asked to clear the neighborhood for the evening and news stations had descended on the quiet neighborhood.

In that week , these three residents’ lives had been totally turned around.

In one week , they’d been sitting in their homes, enjoying a leisurely Sunday afternoon and the next week, they were living in hotels, with their homes leveled and their prized possessions in garbage bins.

I could only think of my friend, whose father’s home was still standing, but completely compromised. Homes can be replaced, but family can’t. But at 80+ years-old, I’m sure no he wants to rebuild what he has lost.

And then, I flashed back to a sentence I’d read in the paper where the widow of the owner of the plane stated, “I think he’s dead,” and hung up when the newspaper reporter called.

Not only did the small plane from Tulsa, Oklahoma cause a large stir in South Bend, Indiana. But it also rocked the lives of many in Tulsa. There were four people on board the aircraft that crippled the small house on Iowa. Two died and two survived. I can only imagine the joy of the family members of the passengers who survived.

They are here for a reason and I hope they look beyond everything that happened to realize that they are needed a little while longer here. Yet in the same breath, I don’t understand why they were spared and the other two on board were taken.

Whatever the reason, it isn’t for me to understand or figure out.

Instead, I hope we all take away from this tragedy that our South Bend Community is tight knit.

That we’re strong and will rebuild.

And finally, that we need to enjoy each day to its fullest because it isn’t a guarantee. Life is what we make it and who we choose to invite in and enjoy it with us. Whatever our purpose is in life, I hope we all make the best of it…