Not in Mourning

Through the grapevine (or from the mouth of the gossip in the group) I found out about a death.  I shed no tears.  I didn’t even have a moment of unhappiness.    I often feel badly when I’m not sad about a death, but I feel perfectly fine about not feeling sad for this death.

Granted, he wasn’t my favorite guy.  Truthfully, he wasn’t much of a man at all.  He cheated on his wife, he didn’t provide for his family, and he didn’t do much of anything beside watch TV.  He was more than content living off the government, sitting at home, not being a full human.  He had no interest in having friends, getting a job, or learning any new skills of any sort.  He had alienated all of his family.  He was judgemental, close-minded, and selfish.  He said horrible things to and about me.

And then I feel sorry for him.  He never lived life.  Sure, he had a wife, kids, and a job.  He never really loved his wife.  She was simply someone who could wash his clothes and feed his belly.  He had kids, but they were there more as pets than as children to love, teach, and enjoy.  He had a job, but his skills were so outdated that he literally wasn’t able to get a job after being laid off.

He created all of his own problems, but could never take responsiblity for that.  He never could recognize the fact that he needed to make changes in his life, so things just kept going from bad to worse.  He actually died due to the lifelong string of bad choices he made.

He died almost completely alone.  I can’t see any more than two people at his funeral and I can’t hear anyone saying anything positive about him relating to the past decade.  He was a shell of a man who had nothing to live for.

How sad is that!  So, I’ve decided that I’m not sad about his death.  I am sad, however, sad about the lack of life he had.  What a complete waste!

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