He was a classmate, a colleague and a dear friend. He was a journalist, one of the most enthusiastic people I’ve ever known.
And he took his own life on Friday.
The details are unclear, but it’s safe to say he found himself in a dark, lonely place. A place where hopelessness rolled in and occupied the golden heart of the man I knew for eight years.
It’s a place I have found myself in before, too.
We worked together at UNC before transferring at the same time to CSU, to work for the Rocky Mountain Collegian. There, we covered everything from “Taser this… Fuck Bush” to The Iowa Caucuses, making unforgettable memories along the way. The infectious excitement he brought everywhere he went. The hilarious, iconic hand motions as he spoke. Splat! The hobo incident. Parties at the Cottage. Countless memories.
He was my brother, in the crazy, messed up fraternity of young journalists.
And I am going to miss him dearly.
My Collegian brothers and sisters and I came together to create an origami flower bouquet featuring Erik’s articles and writings for the Collegian to present to his family at tomorrow’s services.
It’s heartening to know that we can support each other and help each other now, even though we may feel that we failed in that respect before. Especially now, in order to prevent this kind of terrible tragedy from happening again.