ALEC: October 2006 Archives

"Alec had an accident on the trampoline. He did not survive. He passed away." My brother's tone on voicemail was steady but laced with agony. I faltered, walking from interpreting linear algebra to a course director meeting. "We don't know what we're doing yet. It just happened six hours ago. We're calling to let everyone know."

What can I do? I observed myself struggle. Sit down? Stop? Really? There was no doubting the certainty or emotion in my brother's voice. Alec was gone. Just like that. An accident? Images of blood and gore flashed through my mind. What happened? It didn't make sense. What should I do? More to the point, what could I do? I had to teach in 3 hours. I had to meet with my peer teachers and Course Director in 20 minutes. Bail? Obligation....keep moving...I need those printouts. I ask a colleague in the computer lab, "Can you help me find Word? The icon is gone." I try to think through the fog.

The CD meeting unfolds around me. "Let's open with a freewrite, since it's something we ask our students to do.” I write. They move on; I keep writing. Have to get there...start sending emails, practical info only. This happened; I need to come. Can you pick me up at the airport? Can I stay with you? Search airfares, schedule. Bits of my peers’ conversation drifts into consciousness, "How do I get my students engaged?" I am no use to any of them today. Finally the meeting ends. I have two hours; it is a beautiful day. I call my sister-in-law. "This is a voice I've been waiting to hear," she says.

Yesterday I relaxed. Spent time with friends. Walked in the woods. Ate good food. Saw a decidedly unedifying movie. Stayed up too late. Have been considering when to post about Alec - my experience of hearing the news, the moments that bit the worst . . . etc.

It is beautiful late summer/early fall: shorts-weather yet the trees begin to burst with color.

Today, the hometown newspaper ran a spread on Alec.

PHOTO COURTESY OF THE FAMILY
Often, family members would find Alec Kent (left) huddled over one of his sketchbooks. He is shown here at a birthday party with his brother, Austin Kent.

The Rev. Bart Hildreth credited one of Alec’s uncles with saying he could make friends with a doorknob. It was one of many comments that elicited laughter from everyone gathered to commemorate Alec’s life. A bunch of people liked my words,
but there is no doubt that Charlie gave the best speech.
(If you've ever listened to him playing videogames you might be amazed at his range.)

I told one of my best friends that it was as hard to come back to Amherst as it was to go to Kansas City. “It crashes in, I know,” she said. The long slog of adjustment begins. Our lives will always be different, now. It isn’t just the fact of Alec’s death that causes the change, it is the meaningfulness his death creates, a meaningfulness possible only because of his life. “Were you close?” another friend asked on learning the news. A reasonable question, since most of my friends know my family hasn’t been all that tight. I couldn’t muster an answer at the time; it seemed a “yes” required an explanation and I didn't have the energy or the words. Now, I respond with confidence:

Yes, and we're closer now than we were before. Besides, a couple of the girls who spoke at the funeral said Alec told them "he grew out his hair because it annoyed people." Obviously we are kin. :-)