Trail of Tears
I can hear Harper crying in her crib. She’s angry. She doesn’t want to go to sleep. She doesn’t want to be held. She wants to explore. But I’m tired and sad, and the day is over and I need her to give me this space. So she will stay in her crib and she will be angry.
There is no time to be sad and so the tears pounce when they can. The trail of sadness continues at the Morley house with yet another loss — a coworker of mine. A fellow educator who was tragically killed in a car accident on the first day of school. None of it makes sense.
When somebody you love dies at an “advanced” age you are sad, but you are also grateful that they lived such a long life and had the opportunity to either fulfill or come to peace with their dreams. If someone dies from an illness, regardless of age, you are sad, but illness and death go hand in hand and seem a natural and expected way to leave this life. But when somebody has their life stolen from them – when their dreams are ripped away by another person, either by purpose or accident, there is no sense in it. There is no way to make those pieces of information fit together in your head. No matter how hard I try I can’t.
Keye’s killer was arrested. A crack head with a history of robberies and thieving. He will be brought to trial and I have confidence he will see justice. We cheered that an arrest had been made but it is a hollow victory because the one thing we all want we can’t ever have. This man, this thief of life, can’t give us Keye back.
I miss them all.
The irony about being a person who writes, studies writing and loves good writers is that you learn that the best writing comes from the strongest emotion and the strongest emotion is pain – not love. We, as humans, feel more alive when we hurt than when we are happy. We are more aware of our delicate human nature, of the value of the things around us, when we are in pain.
I drove to work this morning in an epic downpour. As I slowly made my way down the expressway with 18-wheelers and teenagers and guys on their cell phones I thought of how quickly something could go wrong and I could be dead. But nothing went wrong, and I’m not dead. Instead, I’m sitting at my kitchen table, listening to the fire crackle and shedding tears for those who weren’t quite so lucky.
Suckerpunch
How was your holiday season? Filled with presents and family? Really? Yeah, I hate you. My holiday was overshadowed by death. The ultimate party pooper. I’ve avoided writing this post because I know, in the end, I will be an emotional wreck and wishing you all could just read my mind (which would make blogging so much easier).
My Uncle Marty died.
He wasn’t really my uncle, but since I wouldn’t know my actual uncle if he came up to me on the street and offered me free chocolate or a cruise to the Caribbean, Marty was it. My mother and Marty had grown up together – gone to the same high school. He married my mother’s best friend; Sandy. My Uncle Marty and Aunt Sandy had two children, Sue and Rich. Rich was my age and I can’t really remember a time in my life when Marty, Sandy, Rich and Sue weren’t a part of it. They have always been my only relations on my mother’s side.
Aunt Sandy & Uncle Marty
Marty was a man who was larger than life. People say that, I know, it’s cliche. However, in Marty’s case it was true. He was loud and passionate and angry. He didn’t just say “hi” in a calm, gentle fashion, but would grab you, hug you, kiss you and embrace you with the feeling that this was the first and last time he would ever see you. He gave generously and hurt deeply. He would tease you, chide you and poke at you, but always with a smile and a twinkle that told you that he loved you.
Marty was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer about a year ago. It sucked. He’s gone now, and it isn’t fair.
But life isn’t fair and this was made abundantly clear to David and I when on Christmas Eve we received the news that our dear friend, Keye Ratley, was shot and killed. He was 35.
Keye, his girlfriend, his brother and his girlfriend, were all leaving a night club together, when Keye’s baby brother got jumped by two muggers. Keye ran in to pull the men off of his brother when the muggers turned around and shot Keye in the abdomen.
Keye Ratley
Keye had a quiet confidence about himself. A gentle demeanor that belied his wicked sense of humor and creative spirit. He was a friend to all and an enemy to none. He was a slave to technology with an absolute obsession with FourSquare and Facebook that left every person feeling like they were a part of his life. He was also a man who knew how to wear a handlebar mustache. David spent three years sitting right next to Keye at work, eating lunch together, talking about the latest Apple products. Only hours before Keye’s death David and he had been exchanging text messages about a new iPhone app.
We buried Keye on Tuesday – his family, friends, coworkers. David and I have cried a thousand tears and I know we have thousands more still yet to come. It sucks.
I don’t have words of wisdom. I haven’t learned some great lesson from all of this. People close to me have died. They are gone and that is that.
Letter From Santa
In an effort to remedy the psychological damage I inflicted after threatening no visit from Santa Claus I crafted and mailed the following letter to my children. Let’s hope it saves me at least two trips to the therapist’s office.
Dear Lucy & Max,
It is my pleasure to inform you that after careful review of your behavior and attitude during the year 2011 that Santa Claus has decided to add you to the following list:
GOOD
We would like to request that on Christmas Eve you place the following items on a plate close to the fireplace:
- A small cup of milk (cow and no less than 2%)
- Three small iced cookies (please no chocolate)
- Three small carrots (peeled)
In addition, we would like to invite you to visit Santa Claus at a store location near you. Every year we strive to deliver toys that meet each child’s wishes and your visit to Santa Claus is an important step in guaranteeing our continued toy success.
We have also noted that you will be staying at your Nana’s house (Max & Carolyn Morley Denton, TX) and would like your Christmas presents delivered there instead of your normal home location. If this is an error please contact our delivery team immediately with the correct address (sclaus_delivery@npole.net).
We would like to thank you for your continued support and belief in our organization and we look forward to hearing from you again in 2012.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year
Lauri Steingarten
Senior Elf
Department of List Management
