Why bad things happen to good people

Bad things will always happen to good people. When we entered this world we were surrounded by the innocence and sanctity of youth. As we grow, we slowly begin to notice that society can be cruel and devoid of sympathy and understanding. Then the harsh realization settles: There is no guarantee that life will ever be easy, or that we will even be successful. This does not mean we cannot find peace and solace in life-we can. But this is only found within ourselves, by using our struggles and tribulations in life as the fuel to keep our inner flames burning to achieve, to strive to overcome our flaws and use them to create the strength to persevere.

My younger brother was murdered at the age of 20. It was a tragedy that resonates to the depth of my soul to this very day. He was robbed-of his future, his goals, his dreams, the chance to fall in love, to have a family, to fully develop into the man I had already begun to admire and honor. He was the greatest person I have ever known, next to Christ.

I remember the phone call from the police, early that evening. I could hear my mother sobbing in the background. The officer quietly explained there had been a death in my family. My heart stopped. It was like a movie; time literally froze. I glanced at my son, my surroundings, noticed the hazy pinks and oranges from the sunset on the horizon. I took that brief moment to savor the comfort that for this millisecond in time, all was normal, intact, to instill the feeling in me that for this present moment, everyone I love is happy and healthy. Their faces flashed through my mind and I closed my eyes and relished it gratefully, clung to it, and absorbed that warmth deep within my heart and memory because I knew my life was going to change in ways I had not yet experienced or prepared for with my very next breath.

"Who is it", I asked, praying for a mistake. "Your brother", was the flat reply. It was the first time in my life that I truly understood what the term "heartbreak" meant. I could feel it crack, spiderweb, and drop to the floor in shattered pieces that I will spend the remainder of my life picking up. The grief was so overwhelming and painful, unimaginable torture so potent that I feared I wouldn't survive it.

I will always wonder "Why him? Why not me-I had 23 years to his 20, it should have been me first-I was READY for it to be me first, I'm older and it's not fair that I couldn't choose to take his place so that he could still live". Looking back, I realize that I cannot dwell in the misery and grief of his death. I must get up, force myself to breathe, and learn to live in his absence. I assumed I would become bitter and hardened-angry at God for my innocent brother's brutal murder, envious at those who still had all their loved ones to spend the holidays with. I expected to become cold and unfeeling from such a severe, untimely tragedy.

It has been almost 4 years now.

The irony of life can be a poignant surprise, because through pain we grow, and I have grown softer since my loss. I judge less, listen more, smile patiently when the tired waitress working a double forgets my order, and I don't mind waiting in the cold to hold the door open for the stressed out mother struggling to usher two toddlers and a stroller with a crying infant into the mall.

My brother has taught me to be a better person. His good heart still has an impact in the world, because it has changed the way I perceive life and value people. Although I will never be able to hear his voice, hug him, or even tell him I love him one last time, I feel honored to have been graced by his presence for the 20 blessed years that I was his big sister, and the lifetime of memories to cherish until we are one day reunited. He wouldn't have had it any other way.

In Memory of:

Gary Isham Jr.

Jan. 30, 1983-Oct. 23, 2003

"Briefly in our lives, Forever in our hearts, Eternally in the arms of Jesus Christ"