Have you ever noticed that sometimes it seems to take tragedy to “wake you up?” I found out yesterday that an acquaintance of mine, her longterm boyfriend was shot and killed over the weekend. He had no enemies, and there seems to be no motive. I had met him once before, he seemed like a really nice guy. I am very sad for my friend and their families, and I hope they find the person who did this so they can have some closure.
It’s these seemingly horrific (and senseless) acts of violence that make you hold onto your loved ones a little tighter and thank god they are safe, at least for one more day. Mike and I had dinner last night and when we both saw one another, we just held each other close for a moment longer than we normally would, both considering the fact that life is short and sometimes we don’t always get the opportunity to say goodbye.
Even though I didn’t know my friend’s boyfriend well, his death has still really touched me. I had been thinking about what it means to “be brave” lately, and the news of his passing sort of shoved these thoughts to the forefront. What’s the point of being afraid of what tomorrow might hold, when you might not get the chance to see tomorrow? What’s the point of being afraid of chasing down your dreams when at best they could come true, and at worst they might not? Even if you fail you are still alive! I think to truly live means to take chances, even if they are scary. Does anyone really want to look back on their life when they are 80 and say, “Man I really wished I had at least tried doing ______”?