There is no "right way" to grieve

Allie. Holden's brother. He died from leukemia before this story takes place. In the beginning I wouldn't have guess that Holden had had a brother, but now I understand. When Allie died Holden slept in the garage, that night he broke all the windows. Everyone has their own way of grieving, and I suppose Holden's was just more on the violent side.
I'm lucky. I haven't had to experience and great and terrible loss in my life yet. Well, I guess it depends on how you look at it. I've only lost a few people in my life. Most I probably won't even remember going to their funeral, but one. Devon Turner. He was a student at NU and he graduated in 2009. He died June 3, 2009 and I can honestly say I will never forget him or his story. He died from accidental overdose, of a combination of alcohol, cough syrup, and pills. I remember going to his funeral. It was held in the school auditorium. All of the football players were dressed in jeans and their jersey (so was Devon). The aud was full of people I knew, probably the fullest I have ever seen it. Everybody in there was crying. My teachers, peers, and people that I thought were the toughest out of all of us were all crying. My mom told me to never, ever, take my own life, not only because she would miss me, but because of how broken it would leave people and how many more people it impacts than you think. I remember clearly walking out of the school behind his casket and standing on the side walk with tears running down my face.
Devon wanted to be a firefighter and he would have been a good one. He was an intern at the Fire Department and all the firefighters came to his funeral. The chief even went up and talked about what a great man Devon was but had to stop in the middle of his speech many times because he was crying. They brought two of the fire trucks with them and those trucks escorted the hearse to Devon's burial site. I stood there as the trucks started up, watching them turn on the lights and start the sirens.
Afterwards I was supposed to go to cheer practice for my competition squad, but it had thankfully been moved to the next night. I went home and just sat on the floor in my room crying. For some reason the tears wouldn't stop. I was confused because I didn't know Devon as well as others yet it had such a big affect on me. I think I must have sat there for about 2 hours before the tears finally stopped, I think I ran out. The next day on the way to cheer practice we were driving on University Ave and a fire truck went by, sirens, lights, everything. I started to break down again. My mom still drove to the gym, yet she just went in to tell them I wouldn't be able to be there, that a kid from my school had died, his funeral was yesterday, and I was still broken about it. This has still left such a mark on my life. I can't even look or hear about a fire truck without the first thing coming to my mind being Devon.