When someone dies, people tend to focus on the person’s death, instead of on their life. At least those who never knew him or her.
A few weeks ago I read on MTV.com, “A Year Without Ned Vizzini: Brilliant YA Author, ‘Teen Wolf’ Writer, And My Best Friend” by Marty Beckerman.
Beckerman chose to focus on his friend’s life and we’re all the more lucky for it.
Sentence after sentence, I felt like an intruder. Beckerman was letting me peak into a relationship that was both his anchor and his Titanic. Sentence after sentence, I was pulled away from Vizzini’s death and drawn into everything his life represented.
The piece makes you focus on the really important stuff. You learned how open and generous Ned was when Marty shares that he spent a summer crashing on Ned’s couch. You realize how aware, how sympathetic Ned could be to those around him, when you visualize him whispering to Marty that the next time he was in front of a crowd would be better.
The fact that Ned committed suicide is fact. It’s what most of the entire first page of Google is comprised of when you Google Ned Vizzini. It’ll be the footnote to his career.
This does not mean that his suicide is him. Marty knows that, anyone who has ever picked up a Ned Vizzini book knows that. He is a compilation of moments, of biology and of hearts he touched.
“Every day for the rest of my life I’ll remember my wonderful friend because he jumped, but his readers — including millions of them not yet born — will remember him because he soared.”
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