Time Keeps Moving

I wasn't planning on posting again so soon. 
In the last month, three young people of our small, population less than 2000, town have died. The first was a girl who was twenty-four, died in a car accident. Drowned. Couldn't get out of the car, was knocked unconscious. The second was another girl, Tanya, about the same age. She overdosed. Now, just five minutes ago, I found out that a guy in my own graduating class, eighteen years old, shot himself. My heart is hurting. It feels like it isn't pumping fast enough, and is falling in on itself. I feel so bad for the pain he felt before, and the pain his family and friends feel now. I wish someone was there to stop him. To make him feel better. Not to send him to a therapist or put him on drugs. That alone would put him back on the track to off himself. When people commit suicide, I think it is a common misconception that it could be prevented by giving him drugs or sending him to see someone to talk about his problems. He needs support in a way that can't easily be explained. Matt needed support that he wasn't getting. All I can do now is pray for his family. And for a lot of people, we will go to his memorial service, and cry it out. And in a month or so, many people will be moving on. Except for his immediate family and friends. And even with them, even though time will be slower, it will continue moving. It's always moving.
Tick, tock. 
Keep moving along.

UPDATE (5/7)
Last night, around 10 o'clock, I got a phone call that our entire senior class is meeting up at a friend of Matt's house. We stayed up there and talked for hours. We met up at the high school with flowers and candles and chalk at 6:30 this morning. We honored him the best we could. I am exhausted and drained. I guess this is what grieving feels like.