This Thing is Personal
“Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more”
I feel in love with this line (in fact the entire soliloquy) from Shakespeare’s classic play Macbeth during my high school years. It spoke to me about the brevity of life and the dearth of leadership within my community. As most teenagers I had a developing sense of concern about my ability to do anything meaningful with my life. Through the years, I have tried not only to make good on “giving something back” to the African American community but also to whatever context I find myself. My life’s work has been made easier by friends I have met along the way who exhibit the same selfless passion and love for community.
Last night, I got a call informing me that someone whom I have adored working with had tragically died in a car accident. I don’t really know how to explain what became of me during the first seconds of the call; I was still but the world around me unashamedly moved on. Such a surreal experience to hear of a close friend’s death!
I am mourning this great friend and gifted preacher’s death. In some way I am also mourning the fact that the rest of the world is not also in visible mourning with me. It seems to me that when you lose someone close to you, the whole world ought be made to stand still and mourn with you. Yes, it is a nonsensical statement but it is how grief makes you feel.
Grief placed my body, if but for a few seconds, in catatonic shock. Forget the food that needs to be cooked; forget the errands that need to be done; forget the phone that needs to be answered; forget the door that needs to be opened. Nothing should take place, everything must stand still in honor of the ineffable friendship we once shared. ”Let it wait” was my visceral reaction.
And now even sleep must wait until I can say, until I have written, until I can share what a wonderful, beautiful person Reverend Joseph Roberson was. Shakespeare was wrong but I’m not mad at Shakespeare. He didn’t know my friend. What is more, he didn’t know yours.
Let the “stuff” of life stand still for a few moments. Call someone you love and tell them how much they mean to you. Don’t send one of those “chain letter” -been “FWDed” fifty million times piece of junk. Do it the old school way, YOU make the call; this thing is personal.
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