Alex Rovello, it’s painful to write words in your absence that you deserved to read in life, but it’s the only option we have left. The following message is drawn primarily from memories shared tonight by the incredible number of people who you touched during your short lifetime. I wish I’d had the opportunity to know you as well as so many others, but I hope at least to capture a little slither of their love with my words. Rest in peace, Alex. This is for you, from all of us:

Alex, can you hear us? We are your friends, your teammates, your family and your admirers. We are the people who your smile filled with happiness and who your vibrant passion lifted with inspiration. We are the hurting souls who never had the chance to give you the farewell you deserved.

Alex, you were the type of friend we all wished to be. Honest. Genuine. Loving. In your absence, we cling to our distinct memories of your warmth. We recall watching you play tennis with integrity and intensity. We laugh wistfully at the jokes you cracked in class and the disarming goofiness that caught us off guard. We smile at the thought of your humility and kindness.

Alex, even when the inevitable march of life pulls us back into our daily routines, you will not leave our thoughts. We will honor you through the way we love our friends and family. We will remember you in the places, experiences, and joys that defined our time together on this planet. We will visit you in our dreams and prayers.

Alex, you deserved to hear these words in life, but it couldn’t happen that way. When each of us uttered goodbye for the last time, we expected to see you at the next day’s practice, the next week’s class, the next month’s family dinner. Our parting words were only goodbye, not farewell. That’s what we thought. It didn’t turn out that way. You’re gone. We remain. It hurts.

Alex, can you hear us?

Ben DeJarnette