Do you ever feel like your very existence pulls you in two different directions? Right now I long for nothing more than simplicity... the kind of relationships, the kind of love that is peaceful and understood. The problem is, I am not simple. And the fundamental complication wrapped up in who I am makes searching for simplicity exhausting and sometimes painful. But my recent state of unrest has brought to mind certain moments when life and my place in it has been remarkably simple. As I look back at these moments, there is a tie that binds them together, a person that made them possible... Quinton.
Shortly after Quinton died I began to make a list of things that I want to do before I die. I remember in the days after his funeral, trying to make sense of what had happened and realizing that there was no sense to be found. The only thing that I could think to do was to make sure that I didnt waste a day of my own life. It was simple, if Quinton didnt get to live his life, I would live mine to the fullest. I would make all of my dreams come true to take the place of all of his dreams that were lost.
Several months later, I found myself searching for answers again. I was called to stand in front of the man who hit my little brothers and left the scene and say... something. What could I possibly say? But as I sat in my room, hours before the trial, the answer became simple. I stood before Sean Daniels, my family and friends, and asked them to honor Quinton by living their lives the way Quinton would have if he had the chance. Those words were perhaps more for myself than anyone else that was there that day. Quinton was everything that I want to be. He was kind and generous, selfless, full of joy. He made the world better just by being around. He was simply beautiful.
Needless to say, I find myself in a place where the clarity of those moments has once again gotten lost in the complication buried inevitably in who I am. Yet, a friend asked me the other day if I thought it was possible to find simplicity in life as an insimple person. My answer was Yes... wholeheartedly. The reason I know this is that there is a little boy that will not let me forget what is important. And maybe he's gonna be the one that saves me. After a year and a half without him, there is a great deal of pain wrapped up in those words. Finding meaning in his death carries with it the guilt of in some way letting him go. Nevertheless, I am taking all of him that I can and walking forward again.
So what does walking forward look like in this moment? What stands out to me is that simple doesn't necessarily mean easy and it certainly doesn't mean perfect. If Quinton were here, his dreams and his life would have been beautiful but they also would have been messy. He would have failed and lost and his heart would have been broken. That is life. You embrace the good, learn from the bad, and keep moving toward what you know to be true. Perhaps this is the place where complication meets simplicity... in the cold and broken hallelujah.
