Rest in peace, Gini.

I don’t think that I ever misunderstood death. How do I qualify that statement? I guess I always understood that it is part of the life cycle. We are born, we live, we die. The first person close to me to die was my grandfather. He died when I was eight and I felt like he came to me in dreams. I probably just dreamed about him. I think he was ready to go. He’d had enough of this world and wanted to see the next one. He was a pastor, after all and maybe his connection to God was just ready to be made in person.

We lost a lot of kids in school. My friend Aera Shin was hanged by her mother, along with her sister. Their father had left their mother and it denoted unquestionable loss of respect. They were immigrant Korean. So she hanged her daughters and she hanged herself. We, me and Aera, were just twelve years old. I remember looking at her in her coffin. She had pimples I had never seen in life. I learned later that the marks were petechiae caused by blood vessels that had burst in her face. She had Barbie dolls in her coffin. She was just a little girl.

My friend Barry Stunson was killed in a car accident. He was in high school and already had NBA scouts looking at him. This boy was smart and sweet. He used to help me chase down my dog Fred when he ran away (which occurred way too often and we never caught him). He had the world ahead of him.

My dad died a few years ago. He had Multiple Sclerosis and was fighting pneumonia for a couple of years. My whole family was together with him. He was so peaceful. I think he was actually looking forward to getting together with his twin brother who had died a few years before. I think he was excited about being freed of this prison his body had become. When he died it was okay. It was okay because he was a good man and he lived a good life and finally, FINALLY he could be free.

My point is that death is not something I don’t comprehend. I may not comprehend the timing, or the victim, but I understand the realities of the fact that people will die. I understand that it is not always in a manner that is acceptable or even comprehendible (which is a sort of double talk I am engaging in that I am simply going to ignore).

What I don’t understand is someone actively taking a life. I don’t understand this. Just a few days ago a coworker of a friend was murdered. She was a sweet, ditzy girl we all enjoyed teasing, occasionally. She was young and pretty, with long blonde hair and a strong affiliation to the church. I did not know her well, but we have shared plenty of happy hours and office events.

Murder has always been a plotline to me, or something that happened to people I did not know personally. Now I can’t help but worry who and how and why could something like this happen to someone like her?

What a world we live in. How can it ever be understandable to take someone’s life? How can it ever be justifiable? How dare these criminals walk the street amongst us? How is it possible for one person to decide to end the life of another.

Rest in peace, Gini.