Sometime last year i received a call a from a person i have known all my life, but that i rarely see. He is the son of a friend of my parents and someone i grew up with. Bryan was calling to tell me that another son of another friend of my parents had been killed in a car accident. Marcus was also the brother of a troubled friend of mine.
"Oh my God!" i said, and like many shocked people, i added, "what happened?"
"Well, the police don't really know," Bryan answered.
hmmm, i thought, that sounds odd, but whatever.
I went to the funeral, not out of any personal sense of loss, but out of loyalty for old relationships and family ties. I saw and comforted my used-to-be friend.
A few months ago, i happened to be reading an article in the paper about the aftermath of someone who had been hit, and very seriously injured, by drunken driver. That driver was Marcus.
I've been muddling this over in my mind for a while, sorting out how i feel. Now i know. I am angry with Marcus. I see the illogic of this. Marcus' family was no less sad for him than if he had been sober. His two young boys and his wife are still without him. I am not sorry i donated money to an account for the boys. I am not sorry i went to the funeral.
But i am still angry. I feel like we were not told the complete truth, because it reflected badly on Marcus.
I don't know what i would have liked to have seen happen instead. The funeral was not the appropriate time to bring this up. But Marcus almost killed another person, and did kill himself.
I wonder what chance for a lesson was lost in this subterfuge. I wonder how that lesson could have been presented. Perhaps something could have been said about the man that Marcus almost killed, asking for help for him.
It's all such a damned waste.