There was a kid that died at my highschool last year.
He was a quarterback for the football team and had already secured multiple college scholarships. He was doing well academically, had a girlfriend, a large number of friends, with no disciplinary problems.
Something happened during a football game and his liver got sheared in half. He was taken to the hospital where they dumped out almost all of their blood into the kid trying to sustain him. He was AB+ so they literally could have poured anything into him and he would have been able to use it, but the bleeding was so intense he was losing it as fast as they were giving it to him.
In the end, the blood people said enough was enough and they let him die.
The worst part? Only child. Kid with his entire life ahead of him, maybe even in pro athletics, no doubt the pride and joy of his parents -- their only pride and joy. Now he was dead. They get to come home to a house full of landmarks and artifacts from the days they had a son. A backpack here, pile of shoes there, notebooks everywhere, athletic jerseys in his closet, bed sheets in the dryer. Constant reminders of their boy, whom had perished.
Such is life.
