The stuff that I felt needed to be password protected still hidden in the previous post, but this is the part of that post I feel comfortable sharing at this point. Leave a comment or email me if you would like the password to the previous post.
Scoob, one of the commenters on this site and one of my best friends ever, lost his dad last night in a motorcycle accident in Arizona. This sucks beyond my personal comprehension.
It was OK when I lost my great-grandmother. She was old and infirm, plus she really needed and wanted to go. No so with Randy. He had lost one of his two sons to suicide , began some sort of mid-life crisis, and moved with his wife to Arizona. He was still relatively young (his 50’s were just coming up…or had only recently arrived, if my thinking is correct) and had things he needed to live for (I’m counting a person as a thing, too, in this sentence).
When Scoob called with the news last night, I was shocked. I was speechless. I was dumb at the moment I should be at least a modicum of strength for my friend. There we no good words to say, and that’s all I could tell him. I felt like such a letdown, but the situation was nothing about me and all about Scoob last night, so how I felt really wasn’t and isn’t important.
I went through a few “coming to terms” stages in bed last night. I’m not sure the first could actually be labeled ‘Denial’, but the news did take some time to sink in. When I hear tragic news the first thing I think is “what can I do?” It took a few minutes to realize there was absolutely nothing I could do at all except pathetically try to be a comfort on the phone. Scoob lives hours away, and the accident happened thousands of miles away.
My second stage could be called ‘Anger’, though I wasn’t hopping or fuming or anything of the sort. I thought, “Randy should have been more careful. He has others to think about. Why did he allow himself to be in that situation?” These thoughts I quickly dismissed as 1) useless, and 2) out of place. 1) It is useless to be angry at a dead person. Doesn’t accomplish a thing. 2) An accident can happen in any place at any time. You don’t have to be driving a motorcycle, though some might argue that doing such would increase your chances of having a fatal accident. If it wasn’t the bike, it could have been in a car, at a job site, or lying at home in bed. Tragedy can strike anywhere.
My third stage was a sort of ‘Acceptance’, I suppose. It happened, and there is nothing that can be done about it now. I even thought, “better young, and quickly, doing something you like, than old, suffering months or years with lung cancer.” Randy and Kathy are both smokers.
I need a new ending, since the last one is hidden in the last post. So: All in all, it sucks to lose a parent, it sucks being so far away from a grieving friend (though Lord only knows what I could do even if I was right next door…it’s not like Scoob would cry on my shoulder or anything…we’re manly men…and he has a wife for that) and my consolations aren’t really consolations at all.
Thus ends my sucky post.
(Wait…did that come off bitter? It shouldn’t have.)