I stood with a friend in the student section of the 115th Civil War match-up between the Ducks and Beavers Saturday afternoon. I yelled to my friend and pointed out the two fighter jets as they roared by, bringing all in attendance to their feet. I felt happy, exhilarated even. For just moments before, the entirety of Autzen Stadium was in silence to honor the memory of Craig Macfie.

Flashback to two weeks ago: Early Friday morning, Macfie was riding home on his bike. The rest we’ve all become intimately familiar with now. Flash forward again to the Civil War moment of silence: It was a sobering moment in an otherwise delightful day. The previous day (Black Friday to all you consumers), I had the pleasure of eating breakfast with my family here in Eugene.

It was only the second time I can remember doing so throughout my college career. The untimely death of my own brother during his college days has prevented them from really visiting me on campus or being around the area. I guess it brings up painful memories. I bring this up because for two families in particular, for this type of pain is still fresh. Losing a sibling was tough; in fact, I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy. But to lose a child, in their prime, is unimaginable.

Before we walked into the restaurant, I saw one of the Emerald newsstands and noticed the issue on Macfie and Compton. I gave one to my mother — not because I’m a sadist and enjoy bringing up the painful past — but because with her unique position, she could fully understand how tragic the whole ordeal truly is.

Neither of us knew Macfie or are acquainted with Compton, but we knew then and there that it wasn’t just two lives that were forever changed that early Friday morning, but many.

From all accounts, both young men were upstanding, outgoing, accomplished students and citizens. Their friends and family have described their respective exploits and personalities. Their friendliness, their selflessness and overall happy demeanor. After all, until that fateful night, both were seniors set to graduate and move on to bigger and better things.

Of course, none of that will happen now. It is easy to Monday morning quarterback the entire situation: Maybe if Patrick hadn’t drove or if Craig wore a helmet or if he stayed at his friend’s that night? But such speculation is pointless. This isn’t the USC-Oregon game, where we can dissect every throw, catch or running play.

This is about two University students who, due to some unfortunate aspect, are involved in a senseless tragedy.

But I understand that incessant need or want to do so. After all, how many times are we reminded of the dangers of drunk driving? Or that wearing a helmet may save your life?

At this time, it is not about those topics. I’m not usually one to err on the side of caution, but deaths such as these cannot be afforded anything but. The debate will occur and usual talking points will be made, and (more than likely) everybody will ignore it and move on with their lives.

The unfortunate nature of this is all too evident. For many — if not most — of you, come Christmas time, you won’t even remember the names of Patrick Compton and Craig Macfie as you open up your new Xbox or iPad and continue celebrating the holidays with your family.

Hell, with the University president getting fired, all attention has already swiftly moved to how egregious it is for the OUS Board to punish the pursuit of excellence, or how Lariviere had it coming for his renegade tactics.

Not to downplay the importance of that issue or the potential effects his firing will have on the University as a whole, but life will go on for Lariviere and the University. Can the same be said for the Macfie or Compton families? Only time will tell.

Last Thursday, as we sat down to eat the delicious meal my girlfriend had prepared, I took a moment to examine all the things in my life I’m grateful for. Chief among them being the existence of that very moment.

Isn’t that what Thanksgiving is all about? I knew that there were two families having the worst Thanksgiving of their lives, and that fact saddened me but allowed me to look at my family and say, “I’m truly lucky.” We should all be so lucky — and those that indeed are should take note because it can all be gone in the blink of an eye.