The First to Die

I graduated high school five years ago, and I remember thinking morbid-ish things about these wonderful people I spent the last 4 years with. (My graduating class was 45. Most of us had gone to school together since Kindergarten.)
Who would get pregnant first?
Who would get married first?
Who would be the first to develop an addiction?
Who would die first?

After the first few months of graduation, the super religious girl got married.
A year after graduation, the star of the girls basketball team got pregnant.
Three years after graduation the quarterback of the football team went to rehab for prescription pills.

I got my answer to the death question today.

Zachary. Zachary was the first to die.
I was never close to this guy by any means, but it still hit me hard.
We attended school together since the 4th grade.
I saw his face in the halls for eight years of my life.
I ran into him occasionally at parties.
I saw his facebook statuses.

Zachary was a simple guy on the outside. A good, simple, down home, country guy. A good ole boy. There are a lot of them in my small town. He was happy with his buddies, a few beers, a campfire, and maybe a little hunting or fishing here and there. He always had a smile on his face.
We may have never been friends, but we respected each other.
I, myself, am not a typical "country girl", so I didn't see eye to eye with a lot of the people in my graduating class, but not once did I ever feel mocked by Zachary. Any time he spoke to me it was respectful, and it had meaning. He did tell me I was smart a lot.

Today, I found out that Zachary had took his own life.
I don't know know why, and I probably never will, but it has weighed on my mind.
I'm sorry he felt no comfort in the world, and I'm sorry he felt no other alternative.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-2 For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted

Song: Hands-Jewel