Student finds solace from his fraternity brothers
Days before the start of his junior year, Max Heckel read a post on Sigma Phi Epsilon’s Facebook page from the fraternity president, Billy Enderle.
The message read “Mandatory meeting. Callahan tonight. Show up. It’s an important meeting.”
Max read the message alone on a cloudy afternoon while sitting in the living room at his new place off campus in Fort Thomas.
Max was unsure what could be so important. It could be recruitment stuff he thought, but decided to find out some details.
“Is this good news or bad news?” read the text Max sent to Enderle.
“When is mandatory ever a good thing?” was the response.
An hour later Heckel got a phone call from another member, Andy Buercher, asking if he knew what the meeting was about.
“No, nobody knows,” Max said.
“Dude, Draper died,” Andy said.
Evan Draper suffered from epilepsy. He had a seizure alone at his house. By the time anyone showed up it was too late.
“It was almost just like a sort of punch in the chest,” Max said recalling the afternoon. “Like everything had stopped.”
The meeting that evening over two years ago Max felt went pretty amazing. Generally a bunch of 20-year-olds might blow off a mandatory meeting, but word had gotten out and 50 to 60 guys had shown up.
After the news of Draper’s death was announced to the fraternity, there weren’t a lot of dry eyes. Max remembers seeing his always smiling, always funny brother of three years, Alex Bruce, being down.
His sophomore year, Max lived on the Sig Ep floor in Callahan Hall before moving out to share a house with four friends. Despite Draper being a senior, he bonded instantly with Max during this year. They would often have Xbox NBA tournaments on Friday nights instead of going out.
Draper was a good friend to have because he would always ask about your day before telling you about his. He was unselfish and always would laugh at whatever you said. He was the tall, teddy bear type, according to Max.
“He was a non-threatening sort of presence. That’s really something nice for a 19-year-old kid to look up to,” Max said.
The memorial service was held in Fort Thomas on Sunday. The funeral was on Monday, the first day of school that semester. It was a hot bright summer day and 60 guys were standing outside in suits, Max remembers. There was a line that could have taken 45 minutes to enter.
“After the memorial service or during it, his mom came up to some of us and she said ‘I may have lost a son today, but I gained like 70 more’ and um…. That was probably the thing that made me instantly break down, but in the long run it really helped with the coping process,” Max said.
He found comfort knowing that people even closer to Draper than himself could be a calm, reassuring and strong presence.
“You can’t do it alone,” said Heckel. “If you do it that way you’re just going to end up pinning it in and pinning it in and eventually just need to talk to somebody. Whether it’s a friend or if there’s no friend to talk to, at least try to find some sort of counselor.”
Working with the Epilepsy Foundation of Greater Cincinnati, Sig Ep went on to raise $9,000 during the semester on various events such as a date auction and penny wars.
Max’s home had an open door policy during the days following the funeral. Friends could come over and rehash stories or talk about everything that had happened in the last several days.
“It was mainly taking it a day at a time. I mean it can’t just happen overnight, but it eventually got better and you still think about it every now and then,” Max said.
There is a song that triggers memories of Draper for Heckel. Days after the funeral a group of friends were hanging out at Max’s home and a playlist was echoing in the background. The song “Bookends” by Simon and Garfunkel started to tell its brief tale of looking back.