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In life, George Terrazas kept his torment a secret, revealing nothing to his family or his friends from Waubonsie Valley High School.
But 15 months after the 18-year-old Naperville student killed himself, this torment would become painfully public during a suicide prevention performance Thursday in his Aurora high school.
"It was almost impossible for me to ever open up to anyone," Terrazas wrote in a journal that detailed the depth and progression of his depression. "I just want to sleep and not worry. I just want the pain to go away."
George's words were re-enacted by Samuel Renzetti, a member of Messages Which Are Hopeful (MWAH!), a regional youth performance arts troupe that developed a program called "We Will Remember You" to educate young people about the impact of suicide.
The impact seemed to overpower the small Waubonsie Valley classroom, from the muffled sobs of George's parents and closest friends to the jarring sound of a gunshot blared over the speakers near the close of the show.
For George's father, George Terrazas Sr., it was the first time he had heard anyone read his son's words, and the effect was both devastating and inspiring. He watched from the front row, shielding his face with tear-streaked hands.
As much as his son bottled his emotions, Terrazas said he thinks George would have been pleased that his despair was broadcast first at his own school, a place where he was known as both a star athlete and a troubled truant.
"I think he would be smiling at the fact that something productive came from this. That was the kind of kid he was. He was always looking to help someone, especially other kids," Terrazas said. "I just hope they can do this (show) on a larger scale."
Only a small group of Waubonsie students were invited to the performance, about 50 selected by administrators and from psychology classes. Assistant Principal Rudy Keller said the audience was kept small at the request of the organizers. He said he does not know if "We Will Remember You" will be shown at any kind of studentwide assembly.
`There's always a fear of contagion. You don't want suicide glorified," Keller said. And yet, after watching the 30-minute performance, Keller said he doesn't think anyone would walk away with glamorous notions of suicide.
"I think this will affect every student and every adult who was in that room," Keller said. "It struck me, as the journal was read, that these were the last things going through George's mind. I had never experienced anything like that. It was very powerful . . . and very sad."
The program opened with the title song, sung by MWAH! member Tara Sandstrom of Plainfield, as another member, J.C. Renzetti of Montgomery, carried out two enlarged photos of George. The first, a portrait, revealed his intense gaze and uneasy smile; the second was a photo taken at a state track meet, George clearing a hurdle.
In the performance, George's success as a track star became a metaphor for all the hurdles he didn't clear: His breakup with a girl he loved, his slide into drug use, fights with his family and run-ins with the police.
In the early morning hours of Jan. 29, 1999, George wrote his final goodbyes and acknowledged how much his death would hurt the people who love him.
"In my instant replay, hopefully, I'll do it the right way," he wrote. "I can't do it. I'm so sorry."
He paged his sister and 12 of his friends and punched in the number 143, pager code for "I love you." He lay down on his bed, cradled his head between two pillows, and fired a bullet into his left temple.
"We all face hurdles in our life every day," J.C. Renzetti told the students as he closed the final page on George's journal.
"Most are within our range, and we just soar right over them. A few are more challenging, and we may need some help getting over those. We may just need someone who understands and cares.
"Let's help each other clear all of life's hurdles."
The students sat silently after the show ended, some slipping out when the bell rang, but most sticking around to listen to the advice from suicide experts and the reaction from George's friends.
"A lot of the things he says (in the journal), it really (angers me)," said 20-year-old Brian Oyervides, one of George's closest friends who came back to Waubonsie to see the program with about a dozen others. "I was the last person to see him alive. If he had said one word . . . "
The adults who spoke--George's mom, a school social worker, a suicide prevention specialist, a teacher and another friend's mom--implored the students to turn to adults when they hit the hurdles or know someone who is in trouble.
But they all acknowledged that it will be the trusted friends, the other teens, who will be the first line of defense in preventing a suicide.
Like Oyervides, every one of George's friends carries the burden of his death, the pain of his absence and the guilt of not knowing just how badly he was hurting.
Brian Gillstedt, who also was with George the night he died, said he knows his friend wanted him to get his life together. And he said he has done that by watching out for the people he cares about.
"I appreciate my friends more," Gillstedt said. "Even when I meet someone new, I look at them differently now. I reinforce my love for them."
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