Rich Will Powers flew back East this week, frustrated with school, frustrated with his housing situation, frustrated with his endless dealings with psychiatrists and new medications and treatments that never seemed to help. He had a constant battle with depression. His problems always seemed larger than life. No matter how small they were they overwhelmed him, and he seemed helpless against the turning tides of despair and ecstasy. He wrote about it, and he told us about it, often in frantic missives in the middle of the night.

Yesterday his body was found in a hotel room in New York City. He left a suicide note, and some phone numbers for the staff to call when he was discovered. He left behind a community of friends who would have done anything to help him if he would have allowed them to help. He didn't want it. Maybe he was tired of trying.

We'll miss you, Rich. I hope you finally found peace, wherever you are.