Alyson+Multigenre

Alyson Goldner In Memory of Leon Baisa “There is a time for everything, And a season for every activity under the heavens: A time to be born and a time to die, A time to plant and a time to uproot, A time to kill and a time to heal, A time to tear down and a time to build, A time to weep and a time to laugh, A time to mourn and a time to dance, A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, A time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, A time to search and a time to give up, A time to keep and a time to throw away, A time to tear and a time to mend, A time to be silent and a time to speak, <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A time to love and a time to hate, <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A time for war and a time for peace.” <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">(Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8) <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Thanksgiving has always been a time to rejoice and be thankful. It has always been a time to spend with family and friends. There was never any time to mourn during my family’s Thanksgiving. There was too much cooking to be done. At dinner, jokes and funny stories were shared, and everyone laughed until he or she cried. However, this past Thanksgiving didn’t have the same joy that each one before it had. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Thanksgiving holiday, <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Leon Baisa <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Wednesday night, <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">This can’t be real. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">It was dark and raining. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">One of them crossed the center line. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Hit head on. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Reality. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Leon Baisa <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Killed. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The night Leon was killed, I was laying in my bed reading. I heard my younger brother crying in the bedroom next to mine, but thought nothing of it. Everyone cries. It is a well-known fact. I didn’t go into his room and ask why; I just let him be. Minutes later, I heard my mom ask where I was. She came to my room, her eyes filled with tears. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Alyson,” she said. “Leon was in a car accident.” <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Is he okay?” I asked. She shook her head. “What happened?” <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“He was driving with his friend in the car. His friend was hurt, but Leon didn’t make it.” <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I had grown up with Leon. His family has lived next to mine for nearly fourteen years. I still remember the first time I met the family. My dad took me and my siblings over there one day after school, and each of us got along with the family perfectly. My dad immediately came up with nicknames for each of the seven children in the Baisa family. There was Foman Roman, Casia Basia, and Spanisa (just to name a few). My dad would call Leon by his name and then add in a laugh in a French accent. He always thought Leon’s name sounded more French than it did Hispanic. Dad referred to each of them by their nicknames for years. To this day he still uses them. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The Five Stages of Grief <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">1. Denial <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">When I first found out that Leon was dead, I didn’t believe it. He was only sixteen-years-old. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He was way too young to die. My younger sister was spending time with him just a few hours before the accident. When she found out, she didn’t cry. She hardly acknowledged the fact that he was dead. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">2. Anger <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">On Thanksgiving, I was angry at quite a few people. I was angry at Leon’s parents for allowing him to drive to the basketball game when the roads were slippery. I was mad at Leon’s friend and the other driver because neither of them had received severe injuries. I was mad at Leon’s younger brother, who was supposed to go with Leon to the game. Had his younger brother been in the car, I think that he would have told Leon to be careful. Finally, I was mad at Leon. From what I have heard, Leon was going sixty miles per hour on a road that had a speed limit of forty miles per hour. He should have been more careful. He should have been aware of the condition of the road. So many things could have prevented the crash, but none of those things happened. Just one change could have saved his life. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">3. Bargaining <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Every day I hope that I am going to wake up from some terrible nightmare. I’m still waiting for Leon to walk out of his house and say “April fools.” I pray that his death was some sort of twisted joke that he was playing on everyone. A couple of days ago, I prayed that Leon would be brought back to life, or that maybe by some form magic, we could spend another day with him. I want to turn back time and tell him to be careful. So many people on facebook said that they wished he was alive. Leon’s family wants him back. I know people who would give up their lives just so Leon could continue to live his. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">4. Depression <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Right now, this is the stage most people are in. For the last couple of days, I have been so sad and have isolated myself from many people. I have to hold back tears in many of my classes and refrain from walking out on the spot. Each time I see a member of Leon’s family, he or she has tears in his or her eyes. My younger sister cried for the first two days after his death. She still cries every so often. My dad, who is one of the strongest people I know, has not been himself. He hasn’t made as many jokes as normal and doesn’t talk as much. Everybody who knew Leon has secluded themselves. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">5. Acceptance <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I don’t know anyone who has reached this stage yet. Accepting the death of a person is not easy to do, especially when it is a person that you were close to. My parents aren’t letting any of the kids drive because they haven’t come to terms with Leon’s death. I don’t think many people will be accepting it soon. It’s just so unbelievable that he’s gone. It still feels like he’s alive. I’m expecting my younger siblings to tell me some hilarious story about what Leon did a couple of days ago. It’s hard to accept that it will never happen again. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> “All of my memories keep you near. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> In silent moments, I imagine you hear.” <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> //Memories// by Within Temptation <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Whenever I think of Leon, there are three main memories that come to my mind. One: I remember playing kickball in the neighbor’s front yard. Leon’s youngest brother, Hunter, was running around the bases. At the time, Hunter was about six-years-old and three feet tall. Leon decided that he was going to throw the ball at Hunter. Unfortunately for Hunter, the ball, which was one-third the size of his body, hit him in the legs. Hunter fell down, stood back up, and continued running. For the entirety of the game, Leon’s objective was to continuously hit Hunter in the legs, just to see him fall again. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> The second memory also has to do with him “torturing” his youngest brother. Hunter was playing in the Baisa’s front yard. Leon came outside, picked up a child’s bike, rode it for a few feet, and then jumped off quickly. When someone does this correctly, the bike will ride on its own. Leon had done this quite often. Normally, it included him riding the back down the street. That one day, however, he decided that he wanted the bike to chase Hunter. Hunter saw the bike coming, so he ran away from it. But because of his height, Hunter could not run very fast, and the bike hit him in the back of the legs, making him fall. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> After watching this happen, my younger sister asked, “Leon, why are you so mean to Hunter?” <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Leon looked at her and replied, “Because he’s a little pancake.” <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> The final memory is more generalized. I always remember Leon being incredibly protective of his family members. He was the only one who could be mean to them. When anyone else was mean, Leon would yell and/or physically harm people. This is how he was from a young age. He was constantly watching out for his younger siblings. He showed so much devotion to his family and friends. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">From Facebook <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">After hearing of Leon’s death, many people formed groups to pray for the Baisa family. Everyone who had heard of Leon posted statuses, saying that they hoped he was resting in peace. Even now, people still post on Leon’s wall and say how sorry they are for what happened. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Devon Charmant Hoover: Your name will never be forgotten, and your smile won’t either. Please rest in peace. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Ian Slinker: Today wasn’t right. It feels wrong that you’re not here at school with us. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> There are so many more statuses like this. Nobody is going to forget Leon Baisa any time soon. He touched so many people. His life was short-lived, but it was not wasted. Rest in peace, Leon Baisa. We will always remember you.