Do you have any friends that died?
My friends died from the consequences of too many bad decisions. I’m not judging them, in fact, I am slightly amazed that it isn’t me going into cardiac arrest after holing myself up in a decrepit apartment for days on end with only a bottle and a bag to call my own.
I don’t cry anymore when I hear the news. I barely even think of the person who is joining the afterlife. It is not them I wish to remember, it is the boy or girl from eons ago that I keep stored in my memory. It is the boy or girl who knew how to change the world. It is the boy or girl who had convictions. It is the boy or girl who wanted to be a rock star, a politician, a doctor, a lover and a friend.
It’s a sober time for the Jewish People. I don’t have the abilities to connect to the Churban that was. I only know the Churban that is. To me, it seems just as vital to mourn for the now as it is for the then.
I still find myself struggling with the same issues that pushed me to run away the first time. I am more mature now, and I have more confidence in who I am meant to be. Still, somehow, I can’t shake that feeling of doom, as if one wrong step will lead me down that path again. I know that I have the tools to hold me in now. I know that I am strong enough to keep on keeping on. But sometimes, I look down at the mud and see the ones I love. And then I look up at the clean ground, littered with invisible dirt that I don’t know how to step around. Then I understand the Churban happening in my time.
It doesn’t matter if you are stuck in the mud or treading stable ground.
When you cannot see the difference between good and evil, it is a tragedy.
When you cannot live life for yourself, it is a tragedy.
When you cannot love with passion, it is a tragedy.
When you cannot be, it is a tragedy.
There are tragedies happening all around us. We focus on the corpses in their wooden boxes. When we look a little closer, we can see a bony finger forever pointing in the direction of those who remain behind.