lingering echoes: gone too soon.

quiet waves, carrying memories that remain with us.

Can you hear me? S.O.S.

Help me put my mind to rest.

Those who have left this world cross my mind often. Some I knew well, others I barely knew, and then there were those I never met. Yet all of these have left a mark on me in their own ways. I don’t always understand why certain stories stick, but they do. And maybe that’s worth exploring.

Why do we grieve people we weren’t close to? Is it strange to feel emotionally affected by those we barely spoke with? I have wondered whether I have the right to feel this way. Whether I understand or not, the feelings have lingered for years.

One guy attended the same high school I did. We weren’t close and didn’t form a friendship until we briefly worked together. From my first impression, I thought maybe he would be one to make fun of me behind his back. He was pretty popular and capable of presenting an outgoing personality. But from the short amount of time I glimpsed his true self, I could tell how genuine he was. From what others had shared, he wasn’t necessarily the most extroverted, despite appearing that way at first glance. He was also one of the few who took a moment out of their day to reach out. We even once discussed potentially scheduling plans, but life drifted as it does, so we never did. While he passed away in 2021, I still think about him four years later. I don’t exactly know why, but something about him crosses my mind.

A few years ago, I came across an AZ-based tattoo artist on TikTok, a few years younger than me. While I thought about reaching out for an appointment at one point, I figured he would not have time as his page drew thousands, if not millions of views. Some mocked him for the way he spoke, though others admired him for his authenticity. One day, he posted a goodbye video, and that was it. His sincerity, his pain behind his eyes... it hit hard. I never knew him, but the grief felt strangely close. You could tell he was loved. This young man truly deserved a life of happiness.

The same feelings occurred for a handful of others I remember being there while my life progressed in another direction. I randomly found out one girl I was friends with in middle school passed away from suicide in her early twenties. Another young man who I knew in my earlier years of high school passed away in a car accident. While even these two hadn’t been present in my life, I wonder why knowing their end causes uneasiness for me. But it stems from acknowledging they had their own chapters in a story with a premature ending.

One artist in particular has left the most emotional weight on me, lasting about seven years now. His name was Tim Bergling, a Sweden-based electronic icon in the 2010s. Throughout Tim’s life, he often struggled with anxiety and depression. As his fame grew, so did his anxiety and substance abuse. He struggled with acute pancreatitis in 2012, which contributed to challenges with alcohol and painkillers as he tried to manage the physical and emotional toll of fame. In the next few years, Tim’s life rapidly drained. He spent time at the Iboga Calm Rehab Center in 2015. During this time, he’d meditate for hours at a time. Avicii retired from DJing in 2016 because travel, performing, and his overall fame took a toll on both his physical and mental health. In 2018, Tim died by suicide at the age of 28 in Muscat, Oman.

One of the main reasons I admired Tim’s music so much is the way he wrote his chord progressions, and I truly felt like I could feel what he produced. That is probably why he has been widely considered one of the greatest electronic artists of all time. His melodies and hooks resonated with not just EDM fans, but a large variety of audiences. So many artists were inspired by Avicii, and his work continues to influence electronic music.

Throughout my high school years, his music production style stuck with me. A Sky Full Of Stars is a track that will always hold a piece of my heart. Whenever I listen to Heaven, featuring Chris Martin, goosebumps strike my whole system. I picture Tim playing the keys from a higher and hopefully happier place.

Though I’m not sure Tim would have cared to have someone like me in his life, nor would it have changed anything, I wish I could tell him I understood his pain. I’m sure many of those around him feel the same way. Even though I didn’t know him, I felt the weight and sadness in his music. Success did not protect him. The world would continue to turn, so he found his way to escape to a new light.

The day before his suicide, Tim wrote the following in one of his final journal entries:

“The shedding of the soul is the last attachment, before it restarts!”

I wish I knew why some stay with me, despite not being part of my story. I carry them quietly, with respect and emotional curiosity. All I hope is they found light at the end of their tunnel.