By Jill Howard Church
Right now, it doesn't matter how Chase Burnett died.
It’s been a week since the McIntosh High School sophomore was found dead in the hot tub at his home. He was laid to rest Friday amid the tears and bewilderment that accompany the loss of anyone so young, so unexpectedly gone.
As we in Fayette County watched news of the tornado damage that mercifully bypassed us, word of Chase’s passing left devastation of its own. David Burnett told The Atlanta Journal-Constitution last week that his son died after smoking synthetic marijuana known as “Spice.”
Chase’s body has been sent to the Georgia Bureau of Investigation for an autopsy to identify any contributing factors that may have led to his drowning death, the AJC reported.
Whether drugs were involved in his death or not, I don’t believe it really matters right now. A family has lost a son and brother, and a young man has lost his future. What matters is how we respond.
Chase’s soccer teammates announced his passing on their Web site “with the greatest of sorrow,” and explained how the varsity team would honor the JV player at Friday night’s game with a special formation. “By beginning the match with only 10 players,” they said, “[we are] allowing Chase to be our 11th man.”
The school and the community will continue to search for ways to come together and find solace. Things like this aren't supposed to happen, and for many it will be their first experience with this kind of loss. Family, friends and faith are all part of the process.
Students will question what they might have done or what they should have said. Teachers will see a look in their students’ faces they didn’t see the week before. Parents will be asked questions they might not have answers for, and wonder if it could just as easily have been their own child lost.
So much of what teenagers do is geared toward planning for the future that they naturally assume they’ll always have one.
Many of us can recall at least one high school classmate who never made it to graduation. Teens too often die from car accidents, medical emergencies, suicides or even shootings, but knowing that it happens elsewhere doesn’t make it any easier to take when it happens to someone you know.
Tragedy can burst like a tornado into anyone’s life, any day. Sometimes you see it coming but most times you don’t. The result is the same: struggling to piece together the remnants of what used to be and facing the type of future you can’t yet imagine.
When Chase’s memorials are over and answers are found for the more difficult questions, questions of why, how and “what if” will still linger. If there was ever a time for the Peachtree City “bubble” to keep the cold winds at bay, this is it.
But just as sunshine often follows the worst of storms, life and love persist. The things we can’t change can still change us for the better if they teach us to live more mindfully.
It doesn't matter how Chase’s life ended; what matters is how it is honored.
Jill Howard Church has lived in Fayette County since 1994. She can be reached at jillptcblog@aol.com.
