I used to believe I was a teensy bit psychic. I thought God gave me ideas by putting information in my head. Now I don’t think God is speaking with me as much as I believe my subconscious clarifies issues for my waking mind. I used to think God, or Whoever, would give me a helpfully prepatory hint before tragedy strikes. Then my friend died. He was the man I loved most, who sometimes loved me and who was good to me one third of the time. I found his lifeless body in my kitchen when I woke three years ago. I was accustomed to my friend being in another room with his porn, so I thought nothing of it when he wasn’t in bed beside me. In the twenty seconds it took to find him, I had no clue a corpse awaited. None. I am so glad. Because I was purely happy for the last time during those seconds. I knew he was there with me and things were good between us the night before.
I enjoyed the simple wisdom of a child who firmly grasps what’s most important. Like the song says, I was happy and I knew it. I felt like clapping my hands. A psychic gift for sending impending doom would have ruined my final wonderful moment, and foresight would not have delivered useful preparation.Caroleena, explaining why ignorance can be bliss one to appreciate.
For anyone who feels shock over a sudden death, Kobe Bryant’s death or anyone’s, be grateful for the shock. You were spared the detestable ruinous knowledge that the inevitable will soon be present. You were given extra time for happiness. Similarly, be grateful for the first three seconds when you first wake and you don’t yet remember the horror of the present. It’s not much, I know. Sometimes the glass isn’t half empty but almost entirely dry and you have to make due with a sip. Take what you can get.