I Cried

Normally when I hear awful news I just nod, and file it away. You know that phrase, "My heart goes out..."? Well, mine stays where it is. Locked deep inside my body, cold and dark. So when you call and tell me you accidentally had your arm fall off? I giggle and ask if you dialed with your toes or the hand that's still left. I care, but when the majority of feelings you've had for most of your life have been negative ones, eventually you just turn your feelings off as much as possible. It's a self-preservation tactic. I care, but don't feel.

I can't even remember how I started reading Dave's blog. He was this happy-go-lucky-in-the-face-of-difficulty guy. From Canada, no less. He didn't even write about bacon. But I kept reading. He wrote about his life with his son and wife and their dog. It's not like the dude's an astronaut or something exciting. But I kept reading. I came to like him, despite how happy and full of light and love he was. He's probably never kicked any babies or scowled in pictures. I liked him anyway.

We'd comment on each other's blogs now and then. He probably doesn't want to, but Dave should be famous. That way he could be an example to others on how to be a good person. Maybe even more importantly, how to be a good person without making others feel like they're not as good a person as he is, which is a tall order.

A couple of weeks ago Dave put a message on his blog that he was going to take time off from writing. His wife had leukemia and although she'd been fighting it for a long time, he needed to be with her, completely.

You never want bad things to happen to good people. It's much more cruel than when bad things happen to bad people, or even average people. Dave and his little family? They are very good people. Yes, I say that without ever having met any of them, and I know I'm right.

Dave's wife died over the weekend. My heart dropped, and so did tears. When I say now that my heart goes out to Dave and his son and their dog, I really truly mean it.