When I originally wrote my Fool’s Paradise column for The Wheel of Fortune, I was – ironically
– in a bit of a ‘Fool’s Paradise’ about the precarious nature of life and the
uncertainties of fate.
I wrote the column less than a month ago, and – from a very
emotionally safe place - explained the nature of the card. In summary, I stated
how it dealt with fate, the ups and downs of life and the impact of the
‘seasons’ we experience in life.
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| Al at the Marine Corp Marathon |
This was approximately one week before a dear friend of mine
was killed in a sudden, freak accident at the tender age of 48 – that is less
than a year older than my current age. But I don’t think it was his age at the
time of his death that upset me so much. Rather, I believe it was the
suddenness of it that alarmed me. Well, that and the huge impact his passing
had on just about everyone who knew him.
Add to that the guilt from having lost touch with my friend
due to family and work responsibilities in the last few years, and you have a dangerous
witches’ brew of intense emotional turmoil.
Oh, there were many comments like, “I should have made more
of an effort,“ and “If only I had known,” and “I would give anything for one
more chance…” But I knew this thinking
was just my conscience seeking a way to sooth itself. I also knew this ‘logic’
was a complete waste of time.
The fact of the matter is there were no more chances, there
was no more time and there wasn’t any way we could have known what that day
would’ve brought when we woke up that morning.
When I heard about Al’s death, I sank in my seat and
wondered why he was chosen. He made this world such a bright place. He was fun.
He was adventurous. He had a great sense of humor. He never let things get to
him. He was the type of person everyone loved to be around – as evidenced by
his memorial service. The fact is I will
never know the reason. I can let it torment me or I can accept what happen
despite the sadness I feel.
I have been thinking about this a lot lately and I realized
a huge reason I am so sad at Al’s passing (other than the obvious reasons) is
because I feel like a part of me died with him. I am not talking about the type
of bond one shares in an intimate relationship. That is not how we rolled.
Rather, the loss I feel with Al’s passing is more like the
death of a piece of my life – a part of my personality. I hope that doesn’t
sound selfish or insensitive, because it is not meant that way. I thought the
world of Al and I (will) miss him for all his many wonderful qualities.
However, my friendship with Al was forged at a time when we were both young and
innocent. Even though we met in our late teens, it is safe to say we grew up –
into adulthood – together.
Our friendship connected us both with a time when we were adventurous
and carefree. Somewhere along the road – probably around the same time we lost
touch - I stopped being adventurous. I started playing it safe, being a mom, and
embracing the predictable and comfortable.
Al, on the other hand, was able to maintain that zest for
life he always had. He was able to do all the things I did plus keep his
passion for living. He didn’t waste time, he didn’t pass up good opportunities
and he didn’t mince words. I can actually imagine him reading this column and almost
hear him now saying, “Okay, Scannell. That’s enough. Get to the point.”
The point is that Al taught me – both in his life and his
death – about the precious (not precarious) nature of life.
Al’s life was a living testament to the energy associated
with the Wheel of Fortune card. Al had his ups and downs but he never let
either define him. For instance, he arrived into this world welcomed by his
family under happy circumstances, but as an adolescent things changed, and he
had to learn to depend on himself. These early hardships only served to
strengthen his resolve about leading the life he had always dreamed. His wife
Tami recently told me one of Al’s favorite quotes was, “Life is hard. Wear a
helmet.” I love that because it really epitomizes the veracity of his spirit.
Al was never afraid of the turning of the wheel. He
understood at any point, his ‘luck’ could change. That knowledge never deterred
him. If anything, it inspired him to ‘seize the day.’ Al was too busy living to
worry about dying.
And that was probably Al’s final gift of friendship to me.
His passing reminded me that I should dust off that adventurous, fun-loving
spirit I packed away years ago. Just like the message of the Wheel of Fortune,
Al’s life reminded me that our experiences on earth should not be feared.
Rather they should be accepted despite the fact that they can fluctuate wildly between
every day joys and unanticipated painful acts of fate.
Al knew that rather than cowering in fear of what might happen,
it would be best to embrace each moment for what it brought. This philosophy is
the essence of the Wheel of Fortune. Living this philosophy is about being
alive and brave in an existence marked by complete uncertainty.
I have thought a lot about my friend in the last few weeks,
and I have wondered how he would’ve responded if the tables had been turned –
if it had been me who died suddenly in a tragic accident. I wondered what he
would think; what he would say as he looked at my pictures during my memorial
service. Obviously I can’t know for sure, but I do suspect he would’ve been feeling
pretty sad about my death and maybe feeling a little guilty, too. He wouldn’t
have liked the situation, but he would’ve been accepting of it. That is the
kind of guy Al was – he rolled with the punches.
I know if I had the opportunity to speak with him now, he
would tell in no uncertain terms to suck it up and continue on with my life. I
think his exact words would be something like, “It’s called intestinal
fortitude, Scannell. Get some.” And that is what the Wheel of Fortune reminds
us to do: Enjoy the good times, Accept the bad times and Be brave in the face
of the uncertainty we call every-day life.
