We all know someone who has died. Some of us know a young person who died. We know it’s different.
George Washington Law Professor Jonathan Turley writes of the passing of a 1L in his evening class, Eric Fatla. The first time I heard the name was on Christmas day, when Turley passed along information of a terrible accident, his student falling four stories at the Union Club in Chicago and suffering traumatic brain injury. He reflects on this young man.
His injuries were too severe. Eric Fatla died yesterday. He sounds like a wonderful young man. I wish I had known him.When I first learned of Eric’s fall on Christmas Eve, I was heading to Midnight Mass with my kids. I sat at St. Mary’s of the Lake trying to comprehend the incomprehensible loss of a person so young and so full of life. Eric had already accomplished more than most people accomplish in a lifetime. He had gone to China on a research project, gone to Honduras as an election monitor, and worked in Congress as a staffer. He was currently with a lobbying and law firm while attending class in the evenings.
He told his Dad about his “five-year-plan,” which included finding a wife and having children. Ever since Eric almost died of a brain hemorrhage in high school, he led a purposeful and active life. He was constantly in motion — planning new adventures and organizing his life with precision and passion. He was a unique and extraordinary person.
As someone who has unfortunately known young people who have died, and as a parent who couldn’t imagine or bear the death of one of my children, a tragedy like this chills me to the bone. Turley calls it a “tragic absurdity,” and it is. There is no sense to be made of it.
That it shouldn’t happen without serving a purpose, let it remind us of two lessons. First, that young people are not invincible, immortal. So many of you, with such enormous promise and potential, behave in destructive ways, or at least with less than prudence, as if nothing you do can ever hurt you. It can. Sometimes it does. Thankfully, most manage to survive those moments of childish foolishness. But tempt fate too often and it might not happen again. Please, don’t take needless risks with your safety.
Second, life can end at any moment. Though I don’t know Eric Fatla, I’m sure he didn’t plan to fall on Christmas day. I’m sure he didn’t plan to die. He made use of his life, short as it was, He did things, touched people, existed. He achieved.
Make use of every day of your life. Matter. You don’t know how many days you’ll get, and you can’t afford to waste any of them.
My deepest condolences to Eric Fatla’s parents, family and friends. No parents should ever have to bury a child.
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Your post, and the related post of Mr. Turley, certainly struck home here and brought tears to my eyes. The holidays are already crazy but for me they reboot the images and memories of the loss of my 19-year old son Andrew on 11/5/08. I wish Andrew would have had people like you and Mr. Turley writing about him, telling the world what a wonderful, loving, creative, talented exciting kid he was – he never knew or “got” that, I think – but the hundreds of people who stood in a long, bitter cold line that stretched out the funeral home door just to say a few words about what he meant to them hammered that point home to me.
I am hopeful that Eric’s family can draw strength during this time from the fact that Eric touched so many lives in such a wonderfully positive way – I know I did.
While your support for his family is certainly important right now, don’t forget that 2, 5 and 10 holidays from now Eric’s family will still be coming to grips with their loss, still vividly feeling his presence, so remember them in your thoughts and prayers and friendship forever.
You are so right – life is not a right or privilege – a club we can demand entry to with some expectation of having it in our grasp at will – life is a gift of unknown duration to be guarded and used aggressively – you should never treat it like a handful of sand, slipping mindlessly through your fingers – Make yours count and make sure you let people like Eric know how important they are – you don’t know whether your time with them numbers in years, months, weeks, days, minutes or seconds…
I’m deeply sorry for your loss, Steve, and thank you for adding so much more to my post.