Categories: uncategorized
Date: 04 April 2006 09:39:11
A namesake of mine was killed.
As with so many deaths and, especially, murders, it is not possible to understand why it happened, despite, in this case at least, huge amounts of investigation. I've just been reading about this killing and another that happened the same year. And as I was reading I found myself desperately wanting the author to give a reason, to explain why those people had been killed. But there was no reason, and there was no explanation. And I know that partly I wanted that explanation because if I knew why the murders had happened somehow, I would feel that it was possible to prevent them. In some wierd confusion of past and present I want those deaths not to happen, and that confused part of me feels that understanding them is a step towards making them not have happened. Certainly, by not understanding the reason why, I feel completely impotent in the face of these deaths, and that is not pleasant. And maybe by understanding I (we?) feel slightly less impotent. Unfortunately I think that feeling is mistaken - we humans are still quite impotent before death.