Finding Perspective Through Tragedy

As I drove to our regular Greenland Sharks breakfast about 3 weeks ago, I couldn’t shake a sense of melancholy. News of a hurricane heading toward western North Carolina had just hit, and it stung a little more knowing I couldn’t make the trip with my brother to see family in Asheville. On top of that, I found out a friend of mine was retiring. Good for him, but I couldn’t help but think, I’ve still got a full workday ahead.

As I made my way down Milwaukee Ave., something unusual caught my eye. Blue lights flashed up ahead, and then I noticed yellow police tape lining the street. Closer still, I saw a a female officer standing around, she was near a blanket draped over a figure on the ground. slowly between two parked cars I saw it—feet sticking out from underneath the blanket. The scene told me enough. It was an obvious sign of a tragedy that unfolded hours before I passed by. I later found when going to a get water across the street for a Cubs game the man had been beaten early that morning. He was 58, just one year younger than me.

As I continued to breakfast, all my morning worries felt very trivial. The weight of missing out on family time and a trip, the stress of work, and even the small sting of watching someone else step into retirement melted away. Here was a person whose day ended before it began, in the most violent way possible.

I found myself thinking about the fragility of life, how easy it is to take our days for granted. I’ve had my share of challenges, no doubt, but I’ve also had an incredible amount of good fortune. A mostly steady career, the company of my family and friends (My kids still like to be with me.), and mornings like this—headed to breakfast with a group of guys who genuinely make life more enjoyable and fun.

Perspective has a funny way of showing up when you least expect it. Seeing that scene made me realize that while I might not always get what I want or feel like I’m in the perfect place, I’m still here. I have the chance to make the most of another day. It's MY day.

Maybe that’s what matters most—just showing up, being grateful for the small moments, and understanding that even when life throws curveballs, at least I'm still in the game.