In Memory of Sule

I had the privilege to get to know Sule Osagiede during the past year and a half, in his time here at Tulane. When I heard the news of Sule’s death I was horrified, stricken. I was angry. I had dark moments of sadness. Despair. Most of all, though, I was confused.

Complete and utter confusion is not something we here at Tulane experience all that often. We lead pretty regular, scheduled lives. We understand that we have choices, and those choices have consequences. For every cause, as the cliché goes, there is an effect. If you don’t study for an exam, you’re probably not going to get a good grade. If you stay out for a late night at the Palms, you’re probably not going to feel too great in the morning. You make decisions, and then things happen based on those decisions. Action and consequence. Cause and effect. Things happen, as they say, for a reason.

And then something like this happens. Sule’s death, to me at least, made absolutely no sense. There was no reason for this to happen. An intelligent, charismatic, athletic and blindingly lovable young man was taken away from us. Why?

I didn’t know what to do. I’m a grad student in English here, so my first instinct was to turn to the written word. No poem, no short story, no speech from history, though, seemed to make any sense. I looked to religion, but the words seemed empty to me, hollow. I wanted to see a plan in this, but nothing seemed right.

It was then that I turned to the last place I thought I’d ever find answers: Facebook. I know, right? Who would have thought that what our parents and teachers have told us for so long was the end of civilization as we know it, this stupid Internet phenomenon, would give me some semblance of peace?

But it was on Facebook that I saw the outpouring of support, the love notes and fond memories of the thousands of people Sule touched in his short time on this earth. I’m sure you’ve done the same, but I can’t count the hours I’ve spent over the last week running through the wall of the group dedicated to Sule, reading the countless stories, notes and love given to this amazing young man.

Reading those notes, I remembered so much about Sule — his quick wit, his unassailable optimism, his constant happiness and that thousand-watt smile we all remember so well. Sule was one of those very few, very special people on this earth that can literally light up a room. I liked Sule the instant I met him, and over the year and a half I knew him, I only grew to love him more. With Sule, there was no room for anger, or boredom or cynicism. With Sule, there was only joy. Joy and more joy, and love.

So, yes, I’m still confused. And a lot of this stuff still doesn’t make sense to me. It probably never will. But there is one thing for which there is no confusion, one thing that I am absolutely certain of: I am a better and happier person for having known Sule Osagiede, and so is everyone else in this room.

Rest in peace, my friend. I hope we see each other again one day.

Nathan Scott is a graduate student at Tulane University.