As we sit here thinking about all the positive impact that you had on this world in your short time here, couldn’t but reflect on one of your friend’s Dad’s sincere appreciation.

https://unraveledandundone.wordpress.com/2025/05/19/the-life-and-death-of-arya-karthik/

The life and death of Arya Karthik

If you would have told me that I would one day find myself in a car with my one and only son, headed to Georgia to pay our last respects to the stranger I saw conquering the National Quiz bowl world on stage 5 years before, I wouldn’t have believed you…but there we were, driving 12 hours one direction to eventually arrive to say farewell one last time. For my son, you were so much more than a friend, you were his other half, a dichotomous relationship that both baffled and amazed me. It was everything I wish more of the world was capable of, but never will be. And while I know he loved you, what you were unaware of, was that his mother and I loved you too…because you loved our son well. You were a gift, someone he had been searching for his entire life, and so had we. It truly did our hearts good to know you were in his life, that he had someone to talk to that truly understood him in ways we never could…and our hearts were broken too, hearing of your sudden passing. I know my son was scared to even ask if he could go to say his last goodbyes, but it was never a question in my mind. I would have moved mountains to make sure he was able to be present. I know that kind of loss…at least, to an extent. We spoke of you for hours off and on, and for so much of it, we just let the passing of time hold a place in our midst. We shared the colors of Kentucky, strangely surreal, the walls of traffic polluting the mountains and the beauty of the yet undeveloped land, something symbolic of our trip to say our farewell. We shook your father’s hand and hugged your mother…and we watched, the memories of your life plastered on the walls, polaroids of accolades and accomplishments, and smiles, a mask forever worn to fool the masses into believing you weren’t feeling so ever alone…but I saw it. It was in every picture and it was the face you showed me the only time we met. Every photo was either you doing something alone or with your team, a smile for a photo, and a loneliness you concealed for a lifetime. My heart broke. For you, your family, for my son, because it was all too easy to see him in those photos. We mourned your loss. We still mourn your loss. We still feel the absence of something beautiful…someone beautiful. As much as I wish we could undue such choices of finality, your life was something of an enigma, even for those that knew you better than most. There will forever be questions about why, probably more so for your mother, but even for Gabe…for me. I’ve walked this path enough times since losing my best friend and even still, I don’t have answers. The brokenness of this world seems a cruelty for such a loving God. My heart hurts all over again, for you, but so much more for my son, because he has to learn what it feels like to live with the absence of something beautiful and it is a sorrow that doesn’t end. There is no filling the void of loss. It is the one thing where my words do little to comfort because grief doesn’t really ever end, it just changes and one either learns to live on or they don’t, but there is no “getting over it,” anymore than one truly ever “gets over” loving someone. It’s a wound that changes. Some days it aches more than others; some days, it feels numb; and some days, it feels like it gets ripped open-a scent, a phrase, a song, a place…life is fucking ruthless at times and it’s the only thing that’s guaranteed: we will all one day suffer the loss of losing another. You were loved. You still are. You ever will be because you loved my son well. Your life had meaning and it still does. My only regret is that I was never able to thank you for the life you lived and the way you loved. Arya Karthik, in life and death, you gave me a gift and a memory I will ever cherish with my son. We are closer because of you. Thank you.

A. W. Forrest