Why Me Why – Part 3
When tragedy strikes, there’s virtually always a silver lining to cling to. But not when someone like my buddy Bob goes to sleep as normal as ever and never wakes up. There is no hospital bed to go sit by. There’s no “it’s just lucky that...” there’s no “good thing …didn’t happen too” there’s no story of so and so who had a similar thing but worse. No, this is as bad as it gets, or is it? The sudden loss of any loved one leaves nothing but the empty place in our souls that once was filled by the warm light of a person in our lives. Could it be worse?
There are no words, there are no gestures, no acts to help make any of it better. Everything seems so inadequate. And yet we call, we stop to spend time, we pray, if only we could do more.
Then there are things that really make you wonder. In the last 4 years, we’ve met some remarkable people, mostly tragic and frightening situations though. We know a man who was as healthy and happy an early 70s retiree as you’ll ever find. One day as he finished pumping gas in his car and as he walked around the back to go pay, some nut out of control smashed into him and sandwiched him between both cars, he lost both legs above the knee. Another person was on his way home from work and some drug induced nut blew a red light, T-boned our friend’s pickup truck. He lost his right hand above the elbow and his left leg below the knee. A young woman we met, in her early 30s felt like she had a stomach flu, went to bed, went into a coma, and woke up 2 weeks later in an ICU with both hands and both feet gone; amputated because of a toxic infection. Then there was a 34-year young man we knew who just recently passed. Before his 2nd birthday he was paralyzed from the neck down in a car crash and spent his entire life in a wheelchair on a ventilator. A small part of his legacy lives on in us because we use the ramps, wheelchair lift, and an accessible bathroom built for him at a small club we joined. If not for the improvements installed for him, we could not have joined. I really never thought I was cut out for this sort of thing, but when we’re around some other people we’ve met, we count our blessings.
I’m afraid my stories this year may evoke unhappy emotions and leave more questions than answers. One thing I’ve learned though, is that there are things you get over, and then there are some things you just get through. The hardest part is that no one can tell you when, or how. Even given how well Jeri and I are doing, things will never be the same, you try to do the best you can with what’s left. As you continue each day, one by one, it’s happening on its own in the background. Then one day out of nowhere in particular you realize; things are better.
Another hard part is seeing the rest of the world continue on as before. There’s jealousy. There’s envy of those who go on about their lives unaffected, as though our lives don’t matter. We want the world to respond and stop and help us, and at the same time we know that it is as it should be for others to be able to live their lives, then we feel guilty wishing for others to share our pain.
Tension is grief’s favorite companion, and it can get the better of you. Things that were never meant get said. For a while, there’s the guilt of even sharing a laugh. Eyes inadvertently look around the room to see if it’s met with approval or scorn. Every bit of good news is met with thoughts of our loss and we wonder if we can share the happiness of others anymore.
In time, there will be birthdays, there will be weddings, there will be Christmas and holidays. There will be good times and laughter again. There will be grand-kids and all the joy they bring. But rather than my buddy Bob or Tommy catching fish with me and the kids, they’ll be but pictures on a mantle.
It just doesn’t seem fair…
Ron Draper
The two most important days in anyone’s life are the day you’re born, and the day you find out why. (Mark Twain)
When tragedy strikes, there’s virtually always a silver lining to cling to. But not when someone like my buddy Bob goes to sleep as normal as ever and never wakes up. There is no hospital bed to go sit by. There’s no “it’s just lucky that...” there’s no “good thing …didn’t happen too” there’s no story of so and so who had a similar thing but worse. No, this is as bad as it gets, or is it? The sudden loss of any loved one leaves nothing but the empty place in our souls that once was filled by the warm light of a person in our lives. Could it be worse?
There are no words, there are no gestures, no acts to help make any of it better. Everything seems so inadequate. And yet we call, we stop to spend time, we pray, if only we could do more.
Then there are things that really make you wonder. In the last 4 years, we’ve met some remarkable people, mostly tragic and frightening situations though. We know a man who was as healthy and happy an early 70s retiree as you’ll ever find. One day as he finished pumping gas in his car and as he walked around the back to go pay, some nut out of control smashed into him and sandwiched him between both cars, he lost both legs above the knee. Another person was on his way home from work and some drug induced nut blew a red light, T-boned our friend’s pickup truck. He lost his right hand above the elbow and his left leg below the knee. A young woman we met, in her early 30s felt like she had a stomach flu, went to bed, went into a coma, and woke up 2 weeks later in an ICU with both hands and both feet gone; amputated because of a toxic infection. Then there was a 34-year young man we knew who just recently passed. Before his 2nd birthday he was paralyzed from the neck down in a car crash and spent his entire life in a wheelchair on a ventilator. A small part of his legacy lives on in us because we use the ramps, wheelchair lift, and an accessible bathroom built for him at a small club we joined. If not for the improvements installed for him, we could not have joined. I really never thought I was cut out for this sort of thing, but when we’re around some other people we’ve met, we count our blessings.
I’m afraid my stories this year may evoke unhappy emotions and leave more questions than answers. One thing I’ve learned though, is that there are things you get over, and then there are some things you just get through. The hardest part is that no one can tell you when, or how. Even given how well Jeri and I are doing, things will never be the same, you try to do the best you can with what’s left. As you continue each day, one by one, it’s happening on its own in the background. Then one day out of nowhere in particular you realize; things are better.
Another hard part is seeing the rest of the world continue on as before. There’s jealousy. There’s envy of those who go on about their lives unaffected, as though our lives don’t matter. We want the world to respond and stop and help us, and at the same time we know that it is as it should be for others to be able to live their lives, then we feel guilty wishing for others to share our pain.
Tension is grief’s favorite companion, and it can get the better of you. Things that were never meant get said. For a while, there’s the guilt of even sharing a laugh. Eyes inadvertently look around the room to see if it’s met with approval or scorn. Every bit of good news is met with thoughts of our loss and we wonder if we can share the happiness of others anymore.
In time, there will be birthdays, there will be weddings, there will be Christmas and holidays. There will be good times and laughter again. There will be grand-kids and all the joy they bring. But rather than my buddy Bob or Tommy catching fish with me and the kids, they’ll be but pictures on a mantle.
It just doesn’t seem fair…
Ron Draper
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