So my family has dealt with serious issues, like death, like most families have. But thankfully the deaths have been terribly sad -- not truly tragic. Tragic is the death of the young.
The worst thing to happen to me in my life was my father's death. I was 20; he was 63. But as much as I adored him, as a rising college senior, to me he was an old man. He collected Social Security. He was retired. He had grandchildren. I've never gotten over his loss, but it was horrifically sad , and yet not a tragedy.
Well, today I heard about one of the T types. Jeff called to tell me he was headed to a memorial service for one of his synagogue's congregants -- a 30 year old who had killed himself. Did I know him, Jeff asked? I knew the family's name, but not the parents or the young man.
Turns out D2 did know him -- he was a few years ahead of her at UF, and has close friends who are close family friends. Learning that, it hit me in the gut. It went from simply sad news, to something much closer to home.
Those who are most close to me share a sacred quality: our kids are everything to us. In fact, the other day, Paul was telling me about someone he was arguing was a "good guy," but then let on that, if his son didn't treat him the right way, the man might financially abandon him. Paul's the much better lawyer than I, but I cross examined my brother into a corner. By definition, such a man could NEVER be our kind of "good guy." He might be fun to hang with, or quirky, or even fascinating -- but never one allowed into our inner circle. Paul backtracked -- maybe the fellow wouldn't really abandon the young man. Nope. Too late. In my eyes, that mere possibility puts a man on a different list in my eyes.
I don't know the family who lost their son. They live close by. We have many people in common. I guess as time goes on -- more will come out about this latest horror. Still -- I pray for peace for them, even though I know that never comes.
I missed my walking today, for a funny reason. Wifey hired our painter to replace some corner stucco fasteners that were rusting through the new paint job. It was a pretty large project -- took 4 workers a whole day to literally saw off the corners, and Erico, our painter, and his son, a whole day to repaint.
The problem was -- they forgot to cover a fountain I have in front of the house, and it became a pool of plaster and debris. The water was a muddy gray. I LIKE that fountain -- keep it clean with chlorine tablets all the time, and turn it on when guests come over, or I want some Zen sounds to accompany my cocktail out front.
So I set about bailing out the water with a 5 gallon bucket, and then flushing the well part of the fountain, and then cleaning it out with a wet vac. It took 3 hours. I was fine doing it, but in effect I was doing weighted squats for hours.
This am I woke, and could barely move my legs. I had a dental cleaning appointment. If I didn't take Tylenol, which I rarely do, I'd still be laying in the dental chair, immobile.
As the day progressed, my walking graduated to Frankenstein monster-like strides. D2 found the whole affair pretty funny -- somehow a project her Mom wanted done ended up annoying and hurting me. Whatever. I should be back with my constitutionals in a few days, hopefully. In the mean time, it only hurts when I get up and walk...
Again -- bupkis problems. Those poor, poor people, who lost a son and brother. Anyone who ever loses perspective in life is a fool. I do foolish things, sometimes, but I'm no fool.
Big Man bless them.
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