Sometimes it can be tough to feel thankful.

For those of the immediate West St. John High School community, and, frankly the entire River Region, the hole left with the senseless killing of Juan Joseph can feel like something that will last forever.

I was struck personally by similarly tragic news this week that came from Louisiana State Police concerning a horrific single-vehicle traffic wreck in Monroe.

Authorities said a Chevrolet Tahoe, driven by a 16-year-old, was traveling east on Interstate 20 when the vehicle ran into the median, began to rollover and ejected six of the truck’s eight occupants.

Five passengers were pronounced dead at the scene. Those that perished include children ages 4, 7 and 15, as well as two adults. The driver survived.

State Police said the family was traveling from Texas to Walt Disney World in Florida for a family vacation.  

The story struck home because of its randomness and brutality.

It took me back to my freshman year of college, when my dad called to say my cousin Nicholas, his godson, was killed in a single-vehicle wreck.

Nicholas, or “Nick,” was nine months younger than me, and we grew up together in a New Orleans East neighborhood, along with his older brother Ronald, cutting through people’s yards in a never-ending quest to find the shortest route between their house and mine.

Even with two children of my own, to this day a picture of Nicholas is the only photo I keep in my wallet.

These tragedies and the amount of people they impact instantly and eternally can knee buckle someone if you only focus on the worst part of the situation.

Luckily, with any great person, remembering their positive impact ultimately overtakes the sorrow and stands as the lasting impression.

I still remember my cousin Nicholas’ gift with people and effortless way of starting genuine friendships. It is something I hope to instill in my own son, so much so I named him Dominick so I could hear a hint of Nick’s name everyday.

The indelible traits never go away.

For Juan Joseph, here was a man who was destined to lead other men. It might be the highest honor you can bestow on someone; it’s not something some coward in a parking lot can take away.

Dozens to hundreds of young students at West St. John — boys and girls — already grew under his tutelage. They saw him in action, and they know what he saw in them.

Juan Joseph’s life may have ended seven days ago, but his love will be felt for decades through his friends, students and family — the true impact of a leader of men.

Our hope is those who loved him most find solace in the memories of the time they spent together.

Stephen Hemelt is general manager and editor of L’OBSERVATEUR. He can be reached at 985-652-9545 or stephen.hemelt@lobservateur.com.