Senseless

Like a lot of people, I find myself deeply affected by a tragedy that literally has nothing to do with me. I am, of course, talking about the massacre at Virginia Tech. It's almost too much to comprehend. The deranged state of mind the killer must have been in, the fear and panic that gripped those students and faculty who came face to face to a gun, the pain of bullets ripping through one's body, desperately wanting to live, but experiencing that split second of fear just before drawing that final ragged breath, the soul numbing, heart wrenching pain that mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, friends, and lovers are suffering through as they come to grips with an unexplainable loss....

The motive (if there was one.) the lack of university response in those crucial hours following the first two killings, who jumped in front of bullets to save friends and students, who died immediately, and who gasped and hemmorhaged for what must have felt like hours but was only a matter of minutes before finally passing--some or all of these questions will be answered in the days and weeks that follow. Families need closure, and the public has to satiate it's lust for the perverse and macabre.

If anything, this, like the death of Kurt Vonnegut and the illness of Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez, has just made it painfully clear to me that I have to keep telling the people I love that I love them. It might sound goofy, but I literally cannot let Dave leave the house in he morning without telling him this exact same thing: "Be careful. Drive safe. Call me when you get there. I love you." Odder still is that if he has to come back into the house to get something (cell phone, meds, CDs,) I have to tell him the same thing again. I'm just terrified that I might jinx him or something. And, even stranger, is that I never erase messages left by friends and family until I have a newer one. After watching 28 Grams and the scene where Naomi Watts listens to the last message her husband and young daughters left on her cell phone over and over while sobbing on her bed, I've been unable to let messages go until I'm sure that I have another one.

I also don't hold grudges against friends and family. Not since my grandfather's death when I was in high school, at least. I'll never forget my aunt screaming and sobbing and crumpling to the ground in the middle of the road after he died. They hadn't been on good terms for months, and he passed unexpectedly, depriving both of them of the chance for reconciliation. She's never been the same since, and I realized that it's just not worth it. Have my parents done things that have hurt me? Yeah. Have I done things that have hurt my parents? Sure, I was a teenager, after all. But you know what? It doesn't matter. I know that whatever my parents may have done, however bizarre or painful their reactions may have been, that they did it out of LOVE.

Most of the ridiculous things that spark disagreements, grudges, and feuds between people aren't done purposefully, with malice or spite. Usually, they're spurred by love, but inevitably are skewed in delivery. But that's OK. It happens. People aren't perfect. We make mistakes. I accept that people make mistakes, and if they give an apology, I let it go. Hell, there are some things I'll never get an apology for, but it's just not worth making a scene over, you know?

I've let all of those old issues go, and I strive for peace in all of my relationships. I refuse to be consumed by the guilt of knowing that I let some ridiculously insignificant action ruin my relationship with anyone. I'm a better person than that, and the people I love deserve better than that. Anything else would be--well--senseless....