Grief

And now for the most original sentence ever: people express grief in different ways. I guess I never really understood how differently until recently in my life. Some sob, loudly, scream out the agony of loss, and others apologize for crying at the funeral of their father. People react very differently to the loss of others too – some go to the survived and offer words or touches of comfort, and others gossip knowingly on the sidelines, relishing in the taboo of death.

A man I met died this weekend, shot by a cop. The news story claims he pulled out a gun – a rifle – and pointed it at the cop after being pulled over, and the officer retaliated in self-defense. This is a lesson in narratives. I met him as the kind, friendly jokester that threw around rolls of tape and laughed with his coworkers and subordinates. He shook my hand when we met and nodded at me whenever we passed by. He brought me the labels I needed to sign before they could be stuck on boxes of fish. He had tattoos.

People are complicated – they can be earnest and cunning, genuine and deceiving. Maybe he had a gun, maybe he didn’t. He’s dead now so I guess it’s too late for him regardless, but I think that it must be very painful to be shot.

Someone reaches their point in life in a variety of ways. The psychology that leads to criminality is complicated and progressive, small crimes often leading to bigger. The motivation behind them, the thought process, are all very human. So even if this is what happened I still feel empathy – and this is something that is easy to forget. This does not mean condoning crime, or pardoning it, but understanding that criminals are all too human. All that being said – narratives.