|DIARY OF AN URBAN MILKMAID|
|In the previous entry, I called one of the dead people from my office by the wrong name. That may not be meaningful to some stranger reading this, but it bothered the hell out of me. "Keith" the driver's real name was Derrick. I couldn't remember it. I couldn't remember it when he was alive either - I guess it's a hard name for me to remember, period.
I can't forget him though.
Derrick was very young, handsome - looked a lot like the actor who plays DeAngelo Barksdale on "The Wire". Derrick was shy, but he smiled a lot. A beautiful smile. He worked in our warehouse, and drove our imprinted products to the printers every day. A lot of the time, he would forget something in the truck and our shipment would be delayed. I found out after he died, how much he had on his plate. No wonder he forgot stuff.
Derrick was about 27 years old. He was a single father, raising two children. He worked for our company, plus he worked as a male escort... He was recently engaged to a nice young woman - AND he was carrying on a tawdry affair with one of the temporary employees (but, I'm certain that was just about the sex).
Derrick stood out for me, because he was the only other member of a recovery group, besides me, working at our company. That gave me great comfort. Somebody like me, in the great sea of insanity where I work...
One night, Derrick was driving home from a party. He wanted to call his fiance, but had left his cellphone at home. He stopped at a pay phone, and while he was talking to her, he was approached by four young men. They asked him where he was from, expecting him to indicate which gang he was affiliated with. He told them he didn't play that. They demanded his wallet. He complied. They demanded his car keys. He gave them over. They weren't satisfied. They proceeded to beat him, and kick him - and then they shot him. All while his fiance was listening at the other end of the telephone.
He was pretty much unrecognizable when his family came to identify him at the coroner's office...
I'm a very, very spiritual person. I believe there is a higher power, and it feels like I'm being cared for every day. I believe we're here to learn lessons that will make us better people. I get stumped though, when I think about Derrick, and I try and find a reason for what happened to him. I don't know what the lesson is that we're supposed to learn from his awful death - or anyone's awful death. My philosophy is - if I'm supposed to learn from something - if I'm supposed to grow from experiencing something - the lesson should be right fucking in front of me when I get to the other side - like God saying "TA DA!!"
Maybe I don't want to learn or grow from Derrick's death. Maybe I'm still just too bitter...
|Buh Bye! |
October 05, 2008
Be Afraid, People.... Really Afraid
One Last Bitchfest for the Road
Get the Popcorn Ready
I'm a Rich Ho-Bag
|Marriage is love.|