3rd December, 2015

Survivor’s Guilt?

December 3, 2015

“Why don’t you take your computer and go up to the Hospitality Lounge and cool off.” Jay said to me as I sat at the salon table with sweat dripping down my face.

“Could I have a paper towel, please.” He handed me one and I patted myself dry.

“Go on. Go. I will meet you up there later.” And so I went.

The Hospitality room is part of the Paradise Village Resort, one of the many benefits we get by being a marina resident. It is a lounge area, complete with showers and is mostly used by hotel guests who have to check out of their room early but don’t have to catch a plane until later. This way, they can utilize the day and then have a place to freshen up before traveling. For cruisers, like us, it is not only a first rate shower and dressing room, but a place to cool off and use the internet.

I sat down and turned on the computer. While I was waiting for it to charge up and connect to the WIFI, I noticed the other inhabitants with whom I shared the room.

There was a family of four, repacking and moving out, presumably, to catch their flight. One man was left standing while his wife finished getting ready in the dressing room. He had the TV on. It was facing the other direction so I couldn’t see it. The volume was turned down low so I could only hear a word or phrase now and then.

His wife came out, hair still wet, and retrieved something from her bag. “We have twenty-five minutes.” he said as he looked down at his phone and then proceeded to say something about a mass shooting in California.

Not again, I think.

My computer connected to the internet and I went to AOL to check for mail and to let our family know we had arrived safely. The first news story that popped up was about the shooting in San Bernardino, California but there was little information except that it was a fluid and on-going situation. The woman came out and she and the man left together. The television played softly in the background. “Three shooters armed with long guns.”

I finished checking my email and moved on to type blog entries. They were about how hot I am and how fortunate I am to be living this lifestyle.

“Fourteen dead. Fourteen wounded.”

The maid came in and turned off the television. I had meant to get up and see what was happening, but instead continued to write about how wonderful everything is.

But it’s not, is it?

I am trying to make sense of this world. I am trying to understand why I am so blessed and fourteen innocent people lost their lives today. It’s hard enough losing one person but imagine losing several colleagues at once. These people are mothers, daughters, sons and wives, husbands, fathers and brothers, friends to many. The repercussions of this event trickles out over the airwaves and through the universe, adversely affecting millions.

I got up and turned the television back on. I am obsessed now, glued to the television, searching for a reason. Why? Who? Why would someone do this? There was a lot of conjecture being tossed about by the reporters but no real motive is given because how could they know? The authorities hadn’t even found the suspects yet.

Jay entered the room. He said I should turn off the television. “That’s one reason we came here. To not be inundated with the news.”

“But we can’t bury our heads in the sand, Jay. This is our world. And it is happening everywhere.” I am beginning to think the Pope is right. Maybe this is the beginning of the Third World War.

We left the room an hour later after the suspects were shot with no real answers. We walked outside and sat at the bar on the beach and watched an incredibly beautiful sunset as it faded over the water. We smiled and laughed and chatted with a woman who came by in a wheelchair. From there, everything looked wonderful.

But it’s not, is it?