Cole - Written 2/25/08

Dear Cole,

A saying goes that those who love life shall have no fear to die. There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that on that spring-like February afternoon, there were millions of things running through your head, but fear was not one of them.

Cole, you were the love of so many people’s lives without them even realizing. Nobody will ever match your natural ability to brighten up every room you entered. On a daily basis, you took what can be a depressing, lowbeat school and made it into a party. Your commentary every lunch is now the stuff of legend. Everytime I walk past that beat-looking sophomore chick who you swore was the second-coming of Helen of Troy, I’ll think of you. Everytime Schelke speaks in that incoherent jumble, which is often, I’ll think of you yelling, “No one can understand you!!!” Everytime someone mixes mayonnaise and ketchup into their pasta, which is never, I’ll remember you in that never-been-wrong attitude telling those imitating a puking motion that we had no idea what we’re talking about.

Your persona didn’t change much when the weekend rolled around. No exaggeration, you were the life of every party – you raised every event to another level. I remember the first real ’09 party – Sih’s house early sophomore year, you and your boy Chase showed up late and it got ridiculous… “Who da fuck iz you,” Andrew puking everywhere, your eight-some in the furniture closet. You were awesome, man; that innate knack at making everyone around you laugh is truly unforgettable.

I guess a good judge of a life is the positive, quality impact we make on others. Cole, you passed that with flying colors. You completed in a short 17 years what others can’t do in 70. You found a girl you loved, a friend you loved, and a life you loved. They all loved you back.

You easily discovered things to be passionate about; sports, school, friends and family. You excelled in each through a certain never-quit mindset that most people didn’t realize you possessed. You always tried to display that easygoing, cocky, “everything-comes-easy-to-me” attitude, as if to make those close to you more comfortable knowing you could do anything you wanted. Maybe you began to believe it yourself, high on life that day on Sheaf.

But honestly, I think you’d want to go out that way. Every single situation you became involved in you dove headfirst, unafraid of what people thought, knowing that you have only so many opportunities in life, that they all must be cherished. Someone said you didn’t deserve to be in an AP class, you’d take pages of notes a night. Someone said you couldn’t finish the boot, you did three just for good measure. Every night out you treated like your last, interacting with nearly everyone, savoring every moment; exuding the eternal optimism everyone has spoken so highly about.

And if there’s one thing that I’ll forever take from your life; that ability to relish every instant spent with friends and family. You taught me how precious life truly is. You developed enough love in your family to teach me what it really means when a parent tells their child “you mean the world to me.” You made me realize it’s not weird to tell my boys I love them. You told me that life’s about the moments and the memories that’ll let us live on long after we’re gone.

Timmy Vernon