Speech of DEATH.

This is a special night.

Every single person in this room has been touched by someone, and has touched someone. (And) In some way we have had an impact on each other’s lives. There are people now who we look up to and admire. Soon, their time will be up. There’ll be vacancies that will need filling in, and we’ll be the ones who take up those spots. Somewhere, there will be a place for each of us. We’ll be admired someday.

I don’t expect everyone to remember what I’m saying tonight, because the truth is most of you probably won’t remember. In a few years, when we look back on tonight, it’s likely we’ll think, “Oh, yeah. High school. No big deal.” Most of the details of the time will be lost to us. When we remember this night, we won’t remember every word said -- we’ll remember the feelings. That’s what counts. We will choose to remember the good and forget the bad, because we’ll realize there’s no reason to remember the bad.

We may forget each other’s names, but we’ll always remember the one who [non-name classmates and something about each].

To someone, somewhere, we mean something. Each one of us means something, even if only to one person. That is more than enough to keep living, to keep trying.

Holding high-school grudges is a sad thing. Let’s not be sad. Or, if we are sad, let’s know when to pretend we aren’t. Let’s know when to speak up and when to keep quiet.

Let’s know when to remember. <-- Last line