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They say that there are different stages of grief people go through when they hear bad news: shock, denial, bargaining, anger, depression, etc. (and finally acceptance, but I'm nowhere near that one yet). This afternoon, at about 12:30pm, my little brother IMed me to tell me that one of my friends from high school was killed in Iraq yesterday. At first, I couldn't believe it...but gradually it sank in, and ever since then I've been on an emotional rollercoaster of depression, numbness, and anger. Right now, I am angry, and so please forgive me if I rant too much here - I just needed to vent somewhere, and right now I'm not in the mood to have my patriotism questioned or my feelings criticized.
*deep breath* Okay, here we go.
My friend's name was Danny. He was two years younger than me, and I met him in high school marching band. He was a trumpet player (and a damn good one, I might add!), and he was one of those people who could always make anybody smile, no matter what. He was great on the marching field - perfect posture, crisp movement, commanding presence - so it didn't really surprise me to learn he had joined the Marines after graduation. One of the things I remember about him was the way he could take band seriously - snap to attention, march cleanly, hit every note perfectly - all with a twinkle in his eye. When we had competitions to see who was the best marcher, he always did great, but even when he was zoned in on the task at hand and focusing on marching his best, you always knew that behind his stern "game face," there was a smile waiting for his friends. And he had lots of friends. He was a charmer - one of those guys who could make any girl feel special and any guy feel cool. He was a great guy, funny, smart, sweet, and talented...and he never lived to see his 20th birthday.
Danny was shot and killed yesterday (on Valentine's Day, which is bitterly ironic - he was always such a sweetheart, and he took my best friend to the Valentine's Day dance one year when she didn't have a date at the last minute), at the age of 19. All that life, all that promise, all that talent, snuffed out...and for what? The thing that upsets me the most about Danny's death is not that it happened at war. He was a Marine, and he was proud to serve his country - this I know. But what really upsets me is that it was this war. It would have been hard enough to lose a friend like him under any circumstances, but the fact that no one will ever see his smile or know his friendship again because of a lie...that's the worst part. My friend died for a lie; he died for a "president's" overinflated ego; he died for arrogance and petty vendettas and WMDs that weren't there.
Forgiveness is divine, they say; time heals all wounds, they say; this too shall pass, they say; and about a million other cliches I'm sure Danny would laugh at me for using here. One day, I may be able to forgive George W. Bush for killing my friend and thousands of other people who were sons, and daughters, and aunts, and uncles, and cousins, and parents, and friends, and lovers. One day, I may be able to tap into that divinity and forgive Bush's deadly lies and all the horror he has inflicted on not only the Iraqis, but on his own American people. One day, I may be a better person than I am now, but for today, I cannot do that. Today, I simply cannot find it in what's left of my heart to forgive that monster for ending thousands of promising and fruitful lives, all for arrogant lies, greed for oil and power, and a selfish need to prove his manliness. Mr. President, you have proved nothing - except that you are a lying, arrogant, spoiled brat who is a plague upon our nation (and, indeed, the world). And in his nineteen short years on this Earth, Mr. President, my friend Danny was more of a man than you will ever be - even if you live to be a hundred. For the world's sake, sir, I hope you do not - but if you do, I hope that one day you will realize the full extent of the horrors you have inflicted, and that that knowledge will haunt you for the rest of your days.
My Christian upbringing and the force of habit dictate that I end this long message with a "May God forgive you, Mr. President," but I cannot. I cannot ask God's forgiveness for you just yet, sir, and I doubt that I will ever be able to offer you mine. You have caused the death of one of the kindest, sweetest, and funniest men I have ever known. He is not your first victim, nor will he be your last...so until the killing in your name comes to an end, Mr. President, I can only pray for Peace. Peace in Iraq, peace at home, and peace for Danny's family and friends - and the families and friends of the thousands of other victims of your regime. Peace - may it come soon.
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