78) The Little Things

A tragedy occurred this past Christmas. 2 men jumped a co-worker of mine in an attempt to rob him and his brother. Details are sketchy, but a struggle broke out that ended in my co-worker being shot from point blank range. He died on the streets of Little Rock just after 2am on Christmas morning.

I learned of this 2 days later via fb, and have had many troubles reconciling in my mind what has happened. The senselessness of the crime forces me to realize how little we actual control in the grand scheme of things. What sort of barriers truly exist between me calmly returning to my car after a dinner with friends or me being jumped and shot by someone desperate for what cash I may have on me? How many times do I leave my office after dark and walk the nearly deserted streets of downtown Dallas before reaching the security of my car without thinking once that my life were in imminent danger? Dozens? Hundreds? Infinitely more than my co-worker will ever again.

I returned to work on December 27th. Our agency closes the week after Christmas and I was the only person present in the office. I booted up my computer and before I knew what I was doing, I walked over to my co-worker's cubicle on the other side of the building. Everything was how he left it the day he departed for Christmas vacation. Toys and trinkets cluttered his messy workspace. 10 bottles of various liquors stood atop his filing cabinet out in the open, a blatant disregard for normal office protocol. Perhaps a clever case of hiding in plain sight. His cubicle walls adorned with posters of obscure bands he'd seen or festivals he'd attended.

I stood in his doorway and wondered what was going to happen to his things. I wondered who would have the unenviable task of cleaning out his cubicle and disconnecting his computer. Who would end up with all of his liquor? Or his toys? I thought about all the time he spent at his office and how his space reflected the playful sort of person he was. And sometime soon his cube would be cleaned and there would be very little trace that he was here at all.

That was when I noticed a postcard pinned up to the inside of his cubicle wall just behind one of his computer monitors. It read, "Don't Sweat The Little Things". It is a simple enough message, the sort you see all over the place. A positive mantra that reminds us not to worry too much because throughout our life there will be plenty of big things to worry about.

For 2012 I resolve not to sweat the little things. Life is too short and too important. Much positive can be said about Keye and the life he led. It is certainly true that he was taken from us far too early. But it is also true that we must enjoy as much of our time here as possible, because we never know when one particular day could be our last.