Always Ally: Years later, death has lasting affect

by Emily Barnes
5.25.10

It was my freshman year of high school. Innocence still invaded every step I took through the crowded halls when the month of April came around. My older sister and her friends were still around to protect me from “evil” things. No one could protect me from the shock and sadness that filled April 11, 2007.

I remember it like it was yesterday. Mr. Larson talked to the Titan Guard members, letting us know that there were people for us to talk to if we needed them. Notifying us of her condition after the car wreck took only five minutes. The rest of the time, the 40 or so of us just sat in the theater speechless, not knowing what to say. The bell for second hour rang and no one moved. Twenty minutes went by and the teachers finally decided that it was time for us to try and go through our day normally. It didn’t work.

I was told about Ashley Sorg’s death after fifth period. I didn’t know what to think or what to do. I had never had someone so close to my own age die. And the fact that it was Ashley didn’t seem fair. She was so sweet and was always willing to lend a helpful hand. I couldn’t help but be hypnotized when she danced. It was amazing to see the raw passion and talent as she did a pirouette or some kind of leap sequence.

While many of us were mourning in the band room that day in April, I couldn’t help but feel a little bad. Sometimes I felt like I didn’t know her well enough to be crying as much as I did. Ashley wasn’t one of my best friends, but she wasn’t just an acquaintance either. It’s sad to say, but she has affected my life more while she has been gone than when she was here.

On April 10, 2010, I visited her grave and gave her a yellow rose. I went a day early because I knew I would be alone to talk to her. I got there and couldn’t figure out what to say. I just stood there staring at the pictures on her tombstone, remembering how graceful of a dancer she was and how I couldn’t believe anyone in the world could be as nice and sweet as she was. I thought about how my graduating class would be the last ones to really know her at Papillion South. I’m sure her story would be passed down for many years to come, but after this year, not many would have actually known her. After contemplating that for a couple of minutes, I finally shot a prayer to her into the setting sun saying that from that day on, I would live my life for the both of us.

I will remember that promise for the rest of my life. When I went to my senior prom, she was standing right beside me. As I interviewed an Oscar award winner for the school newspaper, she was cheering me on and smiling at me with an abundance of pride. As I walked across the stage on May 16, shook the hand of the principal and received my high school diploma, she finally got hers too.

Photo by Paige Stone