I didn't know him. I wouldn't have known his name if he walked by. That doesn't matter now.
I remember coming home to the news. I was confused but I cried anyways. That one night of crying led to weeks, months, and years. The one night that led to a lifetime of hatred towards drugs. The one night that I will never forget nor get over. The one night at camp where I cried under the starry night just because I thought about him. I didn't know him.
Every time I hear Marvelous Light I praise and think of him. "Death has lost it's sting" I didn't know him.
I can't tell people memories about him, but I can tell them how he effected me. I couldn't pick his face out of a crowd, but I can get emotional every time I see a picture of him. I could be mad, but I'll be thankful for how many lives he has and will save. But, I didn't know him.
Yesterday was two years since he has died. Two years of grieving. Two years of crying. Two years of worshiping. Two years of trusting. I didn't know him.
I didn't know him. He didn't know me. We didn't know each other. We never talked.
I didn't know David Rozga, but I can't wait to meet him.
