Over the years I have used writing as a form of therapy. For me it helps bring out from my subconscious what I am thinking and feeling. This has helped me through some rough times and I think I become a better person for it.
However, now for two days I’ve been trying to come to grips with the news I found yesterday on my great friend Paco Martinez’s web log. Monday morning, still Sunday in our time, Paco’s son Paquito Martinez was killed in action while on patrol in Iraq.
Even now, I’m stuck, but I know I’ve got to keep going. Pushing myself to open the door that scares me most. I have to bring out the voice that hides behind that door. I have to ask the tough questions, I have to look myself in the mirror and search for the sense behind this tragedy.
How much pain can one man suffer?
Perhaps there is no coincidence that Paquito’s death occurred during Holy Week. Does the suffering of Jesus bring us any mercy? Do we look at this example and have our faith grow or turn black? Can there be anything more challenging to one’s faith than the loss of a son, a friend, or merely to imagine the pain that someone must endure.
Ever since Paco told me that his son was going to Iraq I have included in my daily prayers special intentions for him to return to Paco safe and sound. I’m sure that did the same. Why weren’t our prayers answered?
His destiny?
Paquito’s grandfather Gregorio, for whom Paquito was named, shared on the local television news that it was his destiny. My wife asked me even more profoundly, “What if it was just his destiny? What if no matter where he might have been on that day, under whatever conditions, it was just his time to go?” What do you say to something like that?
My only response can be a verse from the Bible that says to the effect, that man is incapable of understanding the ways of God. How convenient! I have three kids, and any of you parents that may be reading this can testify that children are seldom satisfied with an answer to one of their questions with “Well I can’t explain it to you because you wouldn’t understand” or something like that. They will typically continue to insist until they have an answer that fits into their world. If we are children of God, should we be any different?
With me, with you
Several years ago another tragedy touched me, and I was changed. After the attacks on 9/11, I began to make decisions differently. This new decision making process has led me to where I am today. It has not been easy. I’ve been through the depths of hell and suffered more than anyone should. But I sit before this computer and am nearer to my dreams than ever before. Did I have to suffer to make me see life differently, value things more, and cherish each opportunity more greatly? Are these events unrelated? As my wife suggests, would I have been here anyway?
I can feel the change already. Paquito’s passing has taught me one thing already. As I read the comments on Paco’s fateful blog entry, I kept seeing that everyone was speechless. I could relate, because I was feeling exactly the same thing. However when I forced myself to post my own comment, I knew that I couldn’t remain speechless. I’m trying to show to myself, and to the world, that I have something to say. Hopefully after sharing, someone else will believe that what I had to say was helpful. So how could I remain speechless? The memory of Paquito deserves better than that from me. So I’m writing. Is it for me, is it for you, is it for him? Maybe all of us. We are each endowed with certain gifts. One of mine happens to be writing. We must all look within ourselves on situations like this and ask whether we using our gifts? Are we trying to hone them, sharpen them, improve them, but most of all use them to help. We need to take advantage of those gifts and help one another. I can assure you that there is enough pain and suffering to go around. Go ahead and make someone’s day a little better by sharing your gifts. The world will be a better place, and you’ll be better for having shared.
For those that are taken from us while they seemed like they had so much left to give, maybe they have already given what they needed to give. Maybe within our memories, their surviving words, their pictures, and the love they shared while they were with us, there lingers everything they were meant to share. It seems impossible, but as persistent children we need to keep asking why this happened. I hope together we will be able to fully appreciate the help Paquito has offered and we can spread it on to the next person when they are in most need. Pass the spirit of Paquito on, I know I will. How can I not, he’s a part of me now. And maybe, just maybe, as hard as it may seem now, maybe then the world will be a little better place.
