A tragedy and a life remembered

We recently had a national news sensation in our state in a little town near to me. And my friends lost a friend. I felt the loss. Because I didn't know the victim so much as I did know his wife. We used to take turns staying over at my besties house. Well, we overlapped. I lived out of state and when I would visit, I would stay at my friend's house. My dear friend, she is just generous like that. So.... when one of her friends lived out of town, working nights, needed a place to stay on the days she worked, she let her stay.... invited her, offered her home. So this friend would sleep there during the daytime hours and work at night. We slept there at night. Anyway... would I say we were super close? No. Did I know the wife of this victim? Yes. Do I take on other people's sorrow and wear it like a warm blanket? Yes.

I am an American consumer. A sensationalist. I am attracted to tragedy like everyone else. Or the news media wouldn't have such a hey-day (hay-day?) with tragedy. Being on-scene before it was safe. Crazy. What were they thinking?! But hey, they had a story to tell. You know why? We were buying. I am guilty. I had parent-teacher conferences that night. So I didn't know. Until a couple hours after the shootings.  And then I read my best friend's social media post: "Please don't call (blank) anymore. She doesn't know anything." And then I read on the news site: survivors have been notified, but not all of the families of those who passed away have been notified.  Then I knew. I was horrified. Sensationalized. I "had" to watch the news. (We don't usually watch the news.... we have a little antenna on the side of the wall that barely gets any reception at all, we live on Hulu and Netflix).

Overwhelming heartache and sadness. This man was younger than me. Not that I am super young, but I haven't hit the half-century mark yet. But the real tragedy is that his story was not ordinary. It was extraordinary. A person who turned his life around and dedicated his life to helping others. An addict helping addicts. But that's not all. Always helping. Not just other addicts. The truth is, he might have been able to run, to escape, but he was helping a gunshot victim and it cost him his life. Do I wish he'd have done something different. No. This is who he was. This was a beautiful story. A most "un-funeral-like" story. But the real story was a love story. That is the story that made me smile. and made me cry. and gave me hope. and broke my heart.

You see.... this is the part I understand a little bit. Being the one whose life has been a wreck, something and someone to steer clear of, a disastrous mess. Then pulling it together with some anonymous help and a lot of caring friends. Getting that lease on life that never seemed possible. Starting again. Not trying to be someone I'm not. But striving for the best me I can be. Uncomfortable? Yeah. Sometimes. Rewarding. definitely. But me.... I can barely build a friendship that lasts. I have a lot of baggage I've drug with me into my clean life. I have lot of baggage and some mental illness (depression and anxiety envelope me much of the time).  Romance? Well, I attract what I put out there (like depression, anxiety, paranoia), so I don't have the best results. Back to the story at hand though. That is why it is miraculous, beautiful and extremely tragic.

The stories that were shared, they are exactly what I remember. A guy who didn't lose his sense of humor, was ornery as could be, rough-cut, and a bit on the vulgar side. But he loved this girl. You can even see it in pictures. The love in his eyes. His whole body really. His body language changed when this girl was near to him. And I wasn't there at the beginning of the story. I came to know them somewhere in the middle of the story. But I know that there was love. That is what I remember. That is what was remembered at his celebration of life. And it made me so sad. Love like this doesn't come along that often. From where I stand, hardly ever. It doesn't make sense. And yet.... every single story shared was of a man who helped others. There's no doubt that his story is exactly the way it is supposed to be.

Sadness for those he left behind. But a world that is changed because he was in it and because he found recovery and followed his heart. He gave back. He gave to the end and that is who he was. I want that. I want my obituary to read like that. Not tragic. But that I wasn't just mundane. I wasn't just ordinary. That I made a difference. That is what I pray for.