Friday, December 5, 2008

Rest in Peace

Maybe it was providence that I didn't get more involved with the Student Peace Alliance this semester. As cool as the idea of being so politically active was, I always felt a Department of Peace wouldn't really do anything. I also felt bad because I had selfish reasons for wanting to go to the meetings. Apart from wanting to be a part of a group of kids I thought were really cool, I mostly wanted to go to see that cute senior with the chin piercing who had invited me to the drum circle. He was essentially the president (though Martin was the real one) and he was into all sorts of spiritual ideas and practices I was familiar with.

I'll never forget the night of the first Korouva party of the year. I had too much homework to attend, but the whole crowd of Student Peace Alliance and Korouva people ran through all the halls of Mabee (and the entire campus) banging on cymbals, djembes, maracas and any other makeshift instrument they could get their hands on, screaming for revolution and for the party that night. I watched from the third floor balcony as they shouted their way out of the building. The last one out, pounding his soul into his stout djembe, was the cute boy who had invited me. I punched a revolution fist into the air as he looked back. Then, staring straight at me now, he thrust his fist up with a heart-jarring shout that shook every fiber in my body. And with that, he turned and left behind the others, beating his drum all the way.

He died last night. He was hit by a car while crossing Highway 29.

I never got to know him like I wanted to. I feel almost intrusive to be so hurt by his death when I wasn't as close to him as others, but that just goes to show how unique he was that I can feel so deeply for him after only having spoken to him on a few occasions. He was the one person in the Student Peace Alliance who I thought would really make a difference. Someone I thought I would hear about in a few years, lobbying for that fire in his heart, for peace, for a peace that he never saw.

It seems strange to say "rest in peace," when peace meant so much more to you than a pithy saying. But you are in peace now. A peace we've all dreamt for. A peace you fought for. A peace we will all continue to fight for in your honor.

Your drum will never stop beating.

Rest in peace, Rob Atkinson.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I feel you, hun. I knew Rob from Sundance in south dakota and he was a dear friend of mine. My heart is breaking tonight, with the knowledge that I will never see his face again, at least not until I take the journey myself. Rob walked a rare path, and he lived with more passion than I've ever seen in a single person, I will miss him tremendously.