"Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it."- George Santyana
"Consider, friend, as you pass by, as you are now, so once was I. As I am now, you too shall be. Prepare, therefore, to follow me." -Scottish Tombstone Epitaph
How do I even begin?
Well, I'll start with her. Elizabeth Ann Ruhlman, born February 19, 1981. She was the most outgoing person I knew, and certainly one of the prettiest. She always felt very strongly about whatever she belived in and expressed her opinions very vocally (most people thought she was possibly the only person that could out-yell me, though she easily talked faster than anyone). She was in practically everything at school and was good at most of it. She even gave me a peck on the cheek after I traded lockers with her back in seventh grade. Of course I turned beet red and stuttered something comepletely unintelligible as any girl-shy seventh grade boy would. Elizabeth had a wonderful sense of humor, too- she once bent over and said to Lambert, "Look Chris, I've got cleavage now!" She also told me that my neon green bands on my braces looked like boogers. Her sense of humor was her best feature- even more so than her looks. She was one of those people you could tell was special, even if she didn't like you.
And believe me, if she didn't like you, you knew. We weren't even friends most of the time. I'd guess we tolerated each other- she was the popular, pretty one, and I was the fat geek. OK, so I still am. But I'm a lot different than I used to be. There were times when we got along quite well.
I don't remember fighting with her before she died. There was no goodbye, but there wasn't any unfinished business either. There are some people that weren't so lucky. Think about that the next time you and your friend fight.
Keith came over Sunday, May 12, 1996, just after his church got out because he was locked out of his house for a few minutes. He seemed a little quiet, but I wanted to show him a new magazine I had gotten a few days earlier, so we started to go downstairs. As I reached the base of the steps he stopped, looked at me, and said, "Russ, Elizabeth died this morning." I turned to tell him that wasn't even funny and then I saw the look in his eyes. I knew he wasn't joking. I turned back the other way and hit the wall with my fist.
The next few days are a blur since they were seen mostly through tears. I remember crying myself to sleep that night and each of the next three nights. I didn't dream all week, thank God. One of the few things I remember clearly was sitting at the lunch table speculating what happened at the accident with some of the guys.
Then came the visit to the funeral home.
I was actually the first one there. I walked in the north entrance, went in the first door on the right, and saw a ton of pictures of Elizabeth on a table across the room. My mom and I walked over and began looking. I remember seeing pictures of her with her friends, and I remeber the keychain we had recieved for being in the play just a few weeks prior. I lost the original keychain, but another like it was given to me as a gift and it is with me wherever I go to this day. Once I had looked over everything on the table a little, I began to look around the room. My eyes fell from the ornate ceiling down the the casket underneath the window, and I saw her body lying there, motionless and pale. At that moment I heard an imperceptible shatter inside myself. It took me almost two years to figure out what that sound was; it was the sound of my heart shattering into a million pieces, because until that very instant I never had any solid proof of her death; you know, there was a glimmer of hope that it was the world's most cruel prank and she was still alive. It was also the second my childhood ended. I looked away. I couldn't come to grips with the fact that she was gone. About the only other coherent thought I had that day was, "I'll never get to see her smile again," because she had one of those smiles that would just light a room up like nothing else could. I remember the room being packed with people less than 20 minutes later, and most of them crying. There was a line that streched beyond the door. I saw Christopher standing over the casket with a look of utter disbelief on his face, trying to figure out what had gone so horribly wrong. I remeber Busse giving me a hug and crying just as hard as I was. Many, many other glimpes of people walking by to see her one last time. I never came closer than five feet to the casket, but the image of her lying there in state is burned into my memory. I will never, EVER forget that day. It is the saddest day in my memory.
You see, most people didn't realize how much contact I actually had with Elizabeth. I was in the school play two years with her, and we spent about four months total practicing almost every school night for three or more hours. That's a lot of time to get to know someone pretty well, even if it wasn't though direct conversation. I wish it had been more. When I compiled my senior scrapbook, I found I had no pictures of her save onstage.
Two and a half years after the accident, it finally dawned on me why I feel so bad about Elizabeth's death.
While our class was in grade school and junior high, we always got the "say no to drugs" and "don't succumb to peer pressure" lines. You know. Anyway, I decided that there were bound to be a few people who wouldn't listen and would be nice and stupid and such things (and boy was I ever right...), so I would just worry about me. I thought I was alienated enough from everyone else that whatever happened to them wasn't my problem.
So much for THAT idea.
I stood idly by and heard all the stories of what everyone had done the weekend before, and what the plans were for this weekend, all the while telling myself it wasn't my problem. I knew she could get pretty intoxicated, but I never thought that she would be dumb enough to get in a car with a drunk behind the wheel and no seat belt on. After they hit a lamp post next to the battleship memorial on 12th Street, she flew through the windshield and landed on the pavement. Elizabeth died on the way to the hospital, less than a mile away, from massive internal bleeding.
Now as I sit here listening to Metallica's Unforgiven, it nears midnight, near the time of day of her premature demise, and in a few minutes it will be just 3 days shy of the second anniversary (hell of a word to use) of her death. She died on mother's day, and I don't think I will ever think of the holiday any other way. I especially think of this today, after they staged a mock accident at the school today. The girl who was killed in the "crash" is probably the nicest person I have ever met. Her mother was onstage crying when Sara read a poem about not being the one that got drunk and still dying. I don't think her mother had to act much. A lot of my friends- even the tough, macho football guys- were near tears or actually crying. I was close, but I needed to go home and think first. It was very odd- if I concentrated, I could hear an echo of Elizabeth's voice just a split second behind Sara's. A ghost? It could have been. I don't doubt much anymore.
It's now been a year since I started this webpage.
Much has changed.
Much is, unfortunately, still the same.
There are still a few of us that have never drank. There are some that have cut back. There's a handful that have quit.
But most still drink.
Elizabeth has manifested herself in my life many times, in many ways. Once in a great while, she'll be in one of my dreams. Occasionally I'll be having difficulties with some issue, and I'll hear a song that reminds me of her. But most of the time, it'll be one of the milestones of life. Graduation is just around the corner (5-12-99). There are only 7 days of school left for us. The chorus is singing "This Day" at commencement as a tribute to her memory. They sang it at her funeral service.
But I'm not in chorus. I was not about to be left out of something that has changed my life this much just because I didn't take an elective class. So I started thinking about some way that I could honor her memory as well. Then, as I lay in bed one night, trying to go to sleep, it occurred to me that the band would be at graduation anyway. Coincidentally (I'm starting to belive in coincidence less and less every day) the band played "Amazing Grace" by Frank Tichelli for large group contest. I resolved that I would ask about it in the morning at school and dozed off.
I woke up to Puff Daddy's I'll Be Missing You.
Coincidence? I really don't think so.
More Memories & thoughts
Do you remember when we were little kids and when we'd just sit there we'd be happy? Well, since that day, I haven't found myself smiling for no good reason much. I think it's because when we were little we had no good reason to be sad. Well, now I have a reason 24/7. It's not fair.
When I'm getting sick of whatever I'm doing, sometimes I'll just go outside and look at the sky, particularly at night. All I have to do is remember that she'll never be able to do any of the things I take for granted every day. Watching TV, reading, school, even work- all mediocre things we do all the time. All things she'll never be able to do again. Think of that next time you think your life sucks. It's sure as heck better than nothing.
I remember one dream I had. I was sitting in Hansum's old classrooms doing something and I heard her laugh next to me. I looked over and said, "You're back!" She looked at me funny and said, "Yeah, I'm back from my dental appointment." I realized I was the only one in the room who knew. Very painful dream. And she won't leave me alone, either. Last night (5-30-98) she even did a little cameo...about all I can remember is her walking by saying hi, then i stopped, turned and said, "Elizabeth," like she should wait a second. She turned and smiled and an unspoken "...it was nice to see you again" passed between us. Then she walked off and was saying, "See you on Tuesday," and acknowlegements exchanged. When I turned away I was swallowing a lump in my throat. It's like we both knew but were forbidden to say anything.
Again, she has made herself known this week (7-30-98). While on a servant trip to Racine, Wisconsin we passed a car that appeared to have blown a tire and lost control, hitting a light pole. Same way she died, except they were out of control and going faster. Didn't help much that Iris was on the radio. And later that same day, I was at a Brewers game with the rest of the group when a girl (I didn't see her face) walked down the steps off to my right. I actually trailed off in mid-sentence. Same hair color, skin color, height, build, and approximate weight as Elizabeth. It was eerie to say the least.
This past week (10-4-98) Ms. Knutson got engaged. You should've seen all the people stream in to look at her ring and give her congratulations. After a while it occured to me that Elizabeth would have been one of the first people in there, and she would have been so happy. It hasn't even been two years and five months, and I can still remember her laugh and smile as though she were sitting behind me. Earlier this year, Ms. Knutson reminded me she'll be on the videotape sealed away in our time capsule that we'll watch just before graduation. I imagine that will be fairly sobering.
Our play was performed this past week (10-19-98). One of the scenes we did is a conversation between two friends. One of them was killed in a drunk driving accident, and the other, the one I played, feels regretful that he did nothing to prevent his friend's death. I achieved my goal. I know of at least two classmates that attended the play that couldn't bring themselves to pick up a bottle at Hobo Days later that night. It may have been the one time it mattered. It's the ultimate gratification for me.
During a conversation with my mom tonight (10-25-98), I made another realization about how Elizabeth's death has affected my life. We were talking about how my sister turned in a group of kids that were cheating on a test this week, and she's been getting nothing but grief. (You know who you are, you little crack fiends! And yes, I know who you are, too....) It's actually gotten to the point where I would rather have myself taking the insults and name-calling for her. I've withstood so much of that in my lifetime it really doesn't matter to me anymore. Anyway, I realized that I've slowly begun to care about people so much more that I've become almost overprotective. I was just so totally helpless when Elizabeth died because she was gone just like that. Just BAM, and my world was thrown upside-down. Now, whenever someone feels like crap or something I can't help myself- I have to go and see if I can help them or something. I just feel that I did so little to prevent her demise that I...well, I almost feel that I have to make up for it now. I don't know...it's just so hard to explain.
Our football team rocks. (11-7-98) We just won out third straight championship, undefeated for three years. We're 66-4 over the last five years. Phenomenal. Anyway, at the welcome-home party for the team in the Becker Center, we had all the nice speeches and thank yous and whatnot that are customary for these sorts of events. After everyone had gotten in line for food, I wandered a bit ( I hate standing in line) talking to some the the guy's parents I know well. I happened to notice Andy getting his picture taken by the trophy and I walked over to give him congratulations. I told him he'd done well and he said thanks. I started to walk away and he said, "Sure would be nice to have Elizabeth here, though." I turned and said, "Yeah." It feels good to know that there's other people that think about her when we reach these minor milestones our lives.
(12-7-98) It has been awhile since I updated this. It's not that I haven't thought about her, I've just been a bit busy. A few thoughts- At the Thanksgiving evening church service, the pastor gave a sermon- well, it ended with a tragically crippled boy dying at a young age, and the pastor was saying, "He never got to graduate from high school... He never went to prom..." and suddenly it felt like someone had stuck a knife in my ribs. Jana had said something eerily similar to that during Elizabeth's eulogy... Brought back a few memories that hadn't been accessed for quite a while. Gawd, I almost wish I didn't remember some of that stuff. They practically had to tear her away from the casket....
Last friday one of my best friends' grandpa died, and about the same time I was talking to her one of the people in a chatroom I was in asked if she died if we'd come to her funeral. Coincidence my butt.
Happy birthday. (2-19-99)
*Sigh* They're all morons, I swear. It's not my fault. I try, but it's not working. Nobody listens. I'm sorry. I can't do it alone. But I can't find anyone to help me.
When I came out of the theater after seeing Saving Private Ryan last Monday, I climbed in the pickup and threw Mariah in the CD player. I didn't even go straight home. I went to the cemetary. Seeing the old man remember that men had died to save him again reminded me that she must have died for a reason. I only hope that there truly was a reason that she did pass away, and I hope that whoever benefits from it realizes it someday. Preferably sooner than later, so the mistake is not repeated.
Happy Birthday, indeed. *sigh*
Here I am again. Drawing closer to midnight, May 12, 1999, coming up on three years real fast, and I'm sitting here typing again. This probably isn't healthy. But what else can I do?
I can't explain how I feel now. I want to scream in everyone's faces for drinking, because in my eyes they're dancing on her grave. I'm sorry. That's how I see it. To know that someone died doing something and then going out and replicating the act is pure idiocy. I only have a few days left with everyone. Maybe I should tell them all off and give them something to think about. But what good will it do? They all know how I feel to some extent. You'd just think that they could LEARN. There are some people that don't seem to give it a second thought. Screw them. They must be heartless. A PERSON DIED. How much more serious do you want? You want someone in your family to die? A parent? A sister or brother? None of us are safe. We just think we are, and it's stupid.
So you decide not to drive. Great. What happens when the cops come and bust the party, and your car is sitting outside? Are you going to let yourself get caught and not risk your life and the lives of those around you, or are you going to get in and drive off? No, stop. Think about that one for a second. What would you REALLY do?
There really is an easier way: just don't drink. For the umpteenth time, don't drink. It's not that hard. It may seem to you like you're missing out, but you're really not. Life is short. Take advantage of your time here. You only live once, right? Yeah, excuses to drink, I know. But, again, stop and think for a second. Think what you're missing out on. Think what you could be doing instead. No, that wasn't long enough. Really THINK. Can't think of anything to do? Maybe that's a sign that you need to get a life.
Yes, I just told you to get a life.
How dare I, you may say. You don't even have a life yourself, you may say. And you may. It's your opinion. But I wouldn't trade my life for any of yours if you do say that.
So do it. Believe it or not, there ARE other things out there to do. For God's sake, go FIND something to do. Make up something to do. Remember that little thing you used to use when you were a kid called an imagination? Yeah. Give it a try. I bet it still works. And if it doesn't, boy are you in trouble.
(5-13-99): It's been a long couple days. There's a lot to say.
Yesterday was three years. There were things that made my cry, and there were things that made me madder than I have been in a long time.
Everyone I could think of to e-mail and everyone on my ICQ list recived this message about 11:50 PM, May 11, followed by an explanation of why I had sent it, and this URL.
Life comes and goes
without input from humanity.
A cycle exists
which can never be broken.
Attrition take care of most of the idiots
but some idiots take care of the good ones.
Mistakes happen.
Second chances may not.
Why must we all
prove our stupidity
instead of our intelligence?
Wise up a little.
Make the world better for all of us.
-Moogs
I bought a red rose and white rose and took them out to her grave after school. I sat out there for a few minutes by myself, then drove out to Ruhlman's to hand deliver my graduation annoucement. I got out of the car, and Lori knew exactly who I was, and that I had written this last year. As you may have noticed, it's a bit larger now. :) Anyway, she took the annoucement and gave me a hug before she even looked twice at it. She's been so strong about this... I have a hard time losing someone who wasn't even really my friend; she loses her daughter and seems to remain calm about it. And little Emily looks more like her sister every day. I'd like to come back in a few years and see what she turns out like.
Later, my sister wanted me to come with her out to the graveyard. She picked some lilacs from the backyard and we went out. When we arrived, we found the flowers neatly arranged and an envelope. It was only marked "Elizabeth" on the outside, and had been opened. I opened it up and my sister choked up as I felt my throat constrict. Jerhod had written a letter to Elizabeth and put it out on her grave after I had visited the first time. It was to her. He summed up how his life had been since she had gone in less than a page, handwritten. It was wonderful. I will definetly miss him next year when we go off to college, too.
And of course, Puff Daddy was on the radio while we were at church painting the abstract mural of Jesus. :) Coincidence is utter crap.
And then there were the things that infuriated me. A certain someone drank a whole bottle of vodka and came to school. Nice way to memorialize the day. Why don't you go dance a while on her grave while you're at it? (Tiny, itty, bitty hint of sarcasm detected.)
And then today, we finally watched the video from when we were freshmen. Elizabeth popped up, and everyone shut up. You could've heard a pin drop, and we were in a carpeted room. She spoke of how she, "...really, really wanted to make it to be a senior..." and everyone's head dropped. It was something that cannot be explained to those who don't know.
My memory serves me well. She was exactly as I remembered her...every last detail (except her leg brace- I had forgotten about that). Her smile, the way her voice sounded, the way she looked, the manner in which she spoke... all of it. It's nice to know that time hasn't faded those memories.
Now there are just three days of school left, and graduation is a mere eight days away. It will be a most memorable event...for more than one reason.
Love ya, babe. I still remember.
(6-29-99): Another dream. Going against my usual perrogative of flashbacks, this one took place on the fourth anniversary of her death. Somehow a lot of my old companions were around, and I remember some of them mentioning it. Anyway, she got to come back for one day. I, either wanting to prove it to everyone or figure out how she came back, got blood samples or some crap like that. Towards the end I realized that she would have to go back, and so I just walked and talked with her for a while. I don't recall if my memory was quite as sharp as before, but that's ok.
And I heard Puffy, Janet, and the Verve all in one day. Coinidence is utter crap, I tell ya.
(9-1-99): So much for that thought I had about it going away again. The night before I moved into my college dorm, I re-created something out of school again. I don't remember much, but I remember her walking around and asking everyone in the class if we ever felt scared. I said "All the time," and then she was gone. All the answers were on the chalkboard, and I only remember saying, "She knew the answers before she even asked, didn't she?" It's not really anything significant, other than the total coincidence it was the night before I moved into college. Bah.
(2-19-00, 12:27 AM) This is the first time all year I've updated this, and it's also the first time in six months I've done so. Does that mean I don't remember her anymore? Not at all. I pass a picture of her daily, a picture in a newspaper clipping about drunk driving accidents in South Dakota hanging in the dorm lobby. It's still not any easier to drive by the cemetary on my way to Sioux Falls, and it's still not any easier to know that half my dorm is out drinking every Wednesday. There just haven't been any significant events in my life that warranted an update to this page.
Today changes that. Today would've been Elizabeth's 19th birthday.
I'm not really sure what to do. I know I'm going to go get some flowers later today and go out to the cemetary, but I feel as though I should do something more. Unfortunately, I have no idea what that is.
I'm no longer sure how to present my feelings regarding drinking to others. None of the people I'm forced to discuss it with knew her. She's just a statistic to them, and that's very sad. Many of them don't know the pain caused when you lose someone you care about, and I can't make them understand, not even by reading this.
I'm so tired of having to put up with it. Really, I am. I wish everyone I knew would just not drink, and then I could stop worrying about it, make my peace, and move on. Instead, I'm forced to watch some of my best friends go out and drink while I sit and remember everything and I just pray to God to keep them safe so it won't happen again. They think that since they aren't driving, they're safe. They're all so incredibly stupid, and for whatever reason I can't make them understand that either.
I don't know what to do with this page anymore, either. It all began as a release of pain and has somehow evolved into my own personal shrine to Elizabeth's memory and to not drinking, but I feel as though I've passed the point of needing to change it anymore. I've exhausted my memories of her, there aren't any more functions with my old high school class, and nobody knows who she is when I try to tell them. Not even a near-fatal crash involving my best friend prompted me to update. I'm tempted to say the page has outlived its usefulness, but I know that's not true. Just yesterday someone came out of nowhere and discussed it with me. The page exists for a reason... but I think it's going to exist as it is from now on.
It pains me very much to consider this thought since this page means so much to me... but I have to move on somehow. *bites lip* Unless dire circumstances dictate otherwise, this will be the final update to this page. I have grown to love Elizabeth very much, and will remember her until I go too greet her when my time has expired. I will continue to share her memory with those I encounter, and will honor her memory however I can. This method of honoring her, however, comes to a close in the early hours of this day. I somehow feel as though I am leaving a part of myself behind, and I may very well be doing so, but the time has come. My life has changed somehow, and it no longer feels right to add further details to this page. It started out as barely a page and has grown to eight. It's got to end somewhere. Having said what I have... it ends.
Thank you, Elizabeth, for teaching me what you have. I will not forget.
--------
It is not OK to drink underage. EVER. Got it?
Now that there won't be any further misunderstandings about that, here's the really fun part: I ask you to help me. Even if you've never met me before and you probably never will. How? By stopping if you've started, and stopping others if you can. It may just be one time, but that may be the time that counts. You'll never know... but that's the whole point.
I may sound like a naieve, idealisitic crusader. You're entitled to your opinion. I feel a lot older and wiser than I should be. Her death was preventable, and there are others that are too. So help me.
All I have to remember her by are a few annual pictures, a newspaper clipping, and the bulletin from the funeral, all of which are tucked safely away in my bible.
Does anyone still wonder why I don't drink?
This page was really meant for someone who will never get a chance to read it..I want to make sure nobody else forgets... I know I never will.
I orignally wrote this on May 9, 1998 in a fit of anguish, and I keep it at www.geocities.com/nite_moogle/memories/mem2.html Tell your friends. Please. It must not be forgotten.
Thank you for reading this. I want to make sure her death was not meaningless. Your doing so means that I've touched you in some way.
-Russell Petersen
a.k.a. Nite_Moogle
Apologies to Nobuo Uematsu and Frank Tichelli for using their music without permission. Forever Rachel and Amazing Grace hold a special place in my heart. Thanks to Bruce Wailes for attributing the quote.
Disclaimer: I'm sorry if I offend anyone, but it's my webpage, my life, and my damn opinion. I mean everything I say. Yes, I really do feel sorry for you if you can't find anything else to do and yes, I really do think you are a heartless person if you knew her and you still drink. If you've ever driven drunk, you had better hope I don't know or don't find out about it. People who do idiotic things like that are the people who end up destroying other people's lives, and I will not tolerate such people in my own life. Once is more than enough. I do my best to keep my feelings from interfereing with the rest of my life, but make no mistake: this is one issue on which I will draw the line and not step back.
