Many people will opt to not read this little diatribe, either because they don’t have time or they have no interest in what I have to say. Unfortunately, the majority of those people are the ones who most need to read it. But, alas, you can’t get blood from a turnip.
The list of pissed.
I’m pissed off. I’m pissed at the world, pissed at the universe, pissed at God, pissed at whatever force governs our existence, if such a force even exists. And maybe it’s better if it doesn’t, because that would at least help to offer some kind of logical explanation about why the thing that has me so pissed off happened at all.
Yesterday, I learned that the husband of a friend was murdered over the weekend in another random, absolutely senseless shooting. Wrong place, wrong time. I didn’t know him as well as I know his wife, but I know he was the kind of man the rest of us hope to be. They were the couple everyone envies, sharing the kind of love that, for many of us, exists only in cheesy Hallmark cards and pathetic romance novels. They had THE good life—not because of their possessions or status. They weren’t affluent by any means. But they had in abundance everything that matters. One moment, they were living proof that there really is such a thing as bliss. The next moment, their world had exploded—in the blink of an eye—and just because he walked into a 7-11 on a Saturday night at a moment when fate played her trump card.
My mind is racing with all the things I’m so pissed about right now. There’s the whole gun debate. Nope, not going there—at least not today. That will happen at another time. But hear this loud and clear. If you post a comment that even echoes a hint of opposition to harsher gun regulations, I will delete it. In a recent FB post, I commented that unless we get tough on guns soon, people we know and love WILL die. I never dreamed it would hit my own circle of friends so quickly.
Then there’s that thing we, as humans, do after shocking tragedies such as this. We go on a desperate search for answers. Aside from love, the one thing we seek more than anything else are answers to enigmatic questions: the meaning of life, existence of a 
supreme deity, our place in the universe, what comes next after we’re done here, and why shit happens. That’s human nature, but I’m not going there either—not because I don’t want to. But mostly because the answers I have won’t work for this situation. Yes, I found some answers during my near-death adventure. At first, I wanted to share them with the whole world. It took me a while, but eventually I realized that the answers I discovered only worked with my questions. They’re like airline tickets…non-transferable. I could tell you MY meaning of life, but it may as well be spoken in Swahili because it isn’t the meaning of YOUR life. And it never will be. And none of those answers will help with the question I keep asking today—the one that has me so pissed off. Why the fuck did this happen to him??? Why that family??? Right now, my newly widowed friend is having an unimaginably difficult time with that same question, trying to come to terms with the fact that the love of her life was taken in the blink of an eye. He was 39. I’m not sure if she is yet aware that the question is unanswerable, at least in the way we would like it to be.
To help prevent me from hurling my coffee table through a plate glass window, I am reminded of something my mom said when she was battling cancer. She told me how she had a long talk with the Big Kahuna, hoping to find something explaining the reason why she, a truly good woman who played by all the rules, would be afflicted with such a punishing, painful, and fatal disease. She asked, “I’m a good woman. Why me?” And the answer she got changed her life. The answer was, “Why not you? Why anyone?” It helped her to realize that God had no hand in giving her cancer, the same way God had no hand in taking Justin from this world in such a cruel and tragic way. You’re welcome to disagree if you like. But please understand that, much like with the gun control debate, I will ask you to refrain from offering a comment that in any way echoes or even suggests the “things happen for a reason” or “God called him home” bullshit. Please.
When banishing is justified…???
Let me show you where I WILL go. Anyone who has had a near-death experience likely understands the true meaning behind three simple words: life is short. Even those who have lost a parent, spouse, partner, best friend, or God forbid, a child likely understand as well. But even those of us who “get it” will eventually let it slip from our minds, and we end up back in the routine where there is no time to stop and smell the roses, where we will always sweat the small shit, and where we remain too uncomfortable to tell a good friend or even a casual one, “You matter to me.” Hell, too many of us break out in hives at the mere thought of uttering those other three words, “I love you.”
The older I get, the more intrigued I become at the way we sometimes treat our personal relationships. We hold grudges for the most ridiculous reasons. We let people drift out of our lives with absolutely no effort to reign them back in, then justify it with something insipidly insensitive like, “People walk out of our lives every day” or “It was a two-way street.” We actually come to believe the things we tell ourselves and others, such as 
“Things were just so busy, there wasn’t time.” A dose of harsh reality came my way through a woman I had been friends with for more than a decade, although she was more like my sister than a friend. She was devastated when I almost croaked in 2015. When I was back on my feet following my hospitalization, we had lunch several times, and she would detail the feelings of fear and angst she wrestled with while coping with the possibility that I may not survive. We were enjoying a celebration of life, or so I thought. But four months after our last lunch together, she wrote me out of her life, apparently over a political disagreement—at least I think that’s why. She ceased all communication from that point forward, so I have been forced to make my best educated guess. To toss away the friendship was her choice. But do any of us really want to banish people from our lives over opinionated miscommunication that, in the grand scheme of things, doesn’t matter?
Locating the instruction manual…
Life is short. Yet we never bother to understand what that really means, and we seldom do anything about it. We squander, we rush, we ignore, we censor, we unfollow, we 
unfriend, and we cast aside. We waste so much energy stressing over those things that don’t matter—things over which we have no control, most of which are going to happen whether or not we stress over them. Yet we find it so difficult to once in a while pause and appreciate, show kindness, instill gladness, or just to marvel at the vast gallery of unparalleled beauty that surrounds us. When all is said and done on your last day as a human, those are the things that will be relevant. Yes, it’s mawkish and trite. But it’s the truth. I have no doubt that Justin already understood that. He needed no reminders about what mattered and what didn’t. He was one of the few 39 year-old men who could look you in the eye and say with total certainty, “Yeah, I get it.” That’s about the only thing regarding his death that offers even a sliver of comfort.
Life doesn’t come with a user’s manual. We face each challenge much the same way we would attempt to assemble an entire IKEA bedroom set without any instructions or diagrams. We wing it. Not an easy task, but we do our best and, in the process, we occasionally screw up. That’s OK. We’re human and we are incredibly imperfect.
For whatever reason or for no reason at all, Justin’s number was up on Saturday night. And at any moment of any day, it could be any one of us whose number is up. In the blink of an eye.
So take ten seconds and smell the fucking roses. If nothing else, I’ll bet the roses will appreciate it. Let go of the damn grudges. Odds are you’re not entirely sure what they did to piss you off in the first place. And try to remember that the small shit over which you have absolutely no control is going to be there regardless, and you will endure it whether or not you sweat it. The sweating just makes it worse. Finally, the one we seem to have the most difficulty with: doing something that makes someone else feel good. Maybe it’s a compliment, or a simple thank you. Perhaps it’s just a boost to let them know you noticed them. Look, today could be your last chance. I know, I know. You’re probably thinking that there is no way you won’t get another tomorrow. Twenty bucks says that Justin thought the same thing.
If anyone would like to help the family with the unfortunate costs that are a part of a tragedy such as this, a fund has been created. You can access that fund here. Any amount is greatly appreciated.
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