I wish I was like you, easily amused

In the past year, I’ve had three friends pass away.  Today makes four.  All through tragic circumstances.  I suppose passing away in your early twenties is tragic enough on its own.  But one suicide, two illnesses and getting hit by a drunk driver are all tragic regardless of age.  People keep telling me that everything happens for a reason.  I don’t accept that.  What possible reason is there for someone being so emotionally beaten and battered that the only way to stop the pain is to swallow a whole bottle of pills?  What possible reason is there for a perfectly healthy 22 year old to come down with leukemia, fight for his life smiling the whole way, only to succumb because the research hasn’t caught up to the disease yet?  Somebody tell me please.

My friend Stefan wanted to be an astronaut.  I don’t mean he dreamed about walking on the moon when he was four years old.  I mean he dreamed about walking on the moon when he was twenty-four years old.  As I understand it, there are two ways to get into space: 1) become a military test fighter pilot like John Glenn and Neil Armstrong or 2) become a mission specialist, the rocket scientists and space walkers.  Stefan wanted to join the Air Force to become a fighter pilot.  When he was told he couldn’t do that because his eyesight wasn’t good enough, he decided to study jet engine propulsion.  He was a rocket scientist and got a job with NASA.  He didn’t get selected into the astronaut training program.  It’s damn near impossible. Something like 4000 people apply for 20 spots every two years.  But, he figured, if he couldn’t get into space, the next best thing would be to work on something that would make it to space.

Three days ago, he was hit  by a drunk driver at 3 in the afternoon.

Stef, you didn’t make it to space in this lifetime, but with your outstretched arm, you’ve slipped the surly bonds of earth and gone to touch the face of God.