Darkness

 About a week ago, I wrote about Max Azzarello, the gentleman who set himself on fire outside of the courtroom where the twice-impeached former "president" was on trial for misuse of funds to pay hush money to the adult film actress with whom he had a clandestine affair while his third wife was at home with their new son. I prefaced this story with that of my father's untimely accidental death. 

I compared the ends of my father with Mister Azzerelo's and expressed my distinct lack of sympathy for this guy who set himself on fire. On purpose. At that time, I was struck more by the tragic waste of life than I was trying to imagine what must have driven a thirty-seven year old man to do such a thing. I was angry at the void left by this act of self-violence and the way it rubbed up against the pain I still feel about the way my father passed. 

It was not, as a friend and constant reader pointed out, my most graceful moment. Specifically my penultimate line: Good riddance. 

That was uncharacteristic of me in general, but not completely out of character. I continue to own that sentiment, and have not bothered to go back and edit or reframe it. It was my reaction to the moment in time. Upon further reflection, I can understand how this might have raised an eyebrow or two. Especially since I spend so much time making sense out of so many other's failings or moments of weakness. There certainly might have been a time when I can imagine that I would have made the case for this guy going out in a literal blaze of glory. I might have pointed out that this kind of high profile failure of our mental health system is the kind of thing that could bring much-needed attention to the plight of those suffering from similar afflictions. 

I might have extended my heart. 

In many ways, I failed myself and you readers out there who may be looking to me for wisdom and insight into some of the darker corners of the human psyche. Instead, I opened up the id box and let my own conflicted feelings fly without much, if any, explanation. There it was: my misanthropic snark on display for anyone to see. 

Anyone who stops by here with any frequency, anyway. This is not an apology so much as a check on what I must be thinking. I must be thinking about what happens next. So much of what I see and hear lately puts me on a path where laughter and forgetting is not the easy one to take. I appreciate the reminder that I can be better. 

Sometimes it takes a little more effort.