Matter...

Today.

At the beginning of Modernism, a woman I've grown to respect, a tough woman and fellow student with a military background stood up, rushed to the front of class, and began to weep as she explained to my teacher that her neighbor committed suicide and she needed to go, she was so sorry, so sorry but she needed to go.

Yesterday.

Another strong woman.  Her eyes welled up as she stood in front of the class and explained that her heart was heavy.  Her lesson plan for the day might be less organized than usual. Her lesson plan might be less organized than usual because one of her students, twenty one years of age committed suicide and she just received the call.

This summer.

I heard a knock on my bedroom door at two in the morning.  My roommate told us there were police cars up and down our block and something was wrong; people were moaning.  People were moaning and screaming.  Our neighbors were stuck sitting in the middle of the street because their husband, father, uncle, son had just shot himself in the adjacent room of their house.

Committing suicide impacts people.  It impacts people because a person's presence, however big or small, makes an impression on the people around him.  A person's presence makes an impression on people because no matter how big or small, each human life matters.

Today, yesterday, this summer.

I've known none of these people but each of their deaths has mattered to me.