A Celebration of the Angel of Death

This article is really not what you think it is. But, be patient, I’m going to take the long way around the barn.

Wednesday will be 13 months since my younger brother passed away, two months to the day before his 52nd birthday. I grieved his loss, but I celebrate his life. He lived his life on his terms and “went out with his boots on.” Something most of us are too afraid to do.

The rescue workers on September 11, 2001 went out saving lives. A mission they had dedicated their lives to. I celebrate their lives as well.

We all know people whose very life was an example of a life well spent. We should all celebrate their lives.


There is one group of people whose death I celebrate. Yes, I wrote that correctly. There is one group of people who death gives me cause to celebrate, not their life.

This group includes people we all know OF, but do not know. People like Adolph Hitler and Joseph Stalin. This group also includes some people you and I know personally. Too well in some cases.

These are people who are very good at attracting people. But there is only one person they care about. Themselves. To them the other 6,999,999,999 people are just interchangeable pieces of meat for them to use to make them feel better about themselves. Some of these people are after prestige, or money, or power, or sex, or who knows what.

They are very good at getting us hooked. They are very good at the beginning of the relationship. But they have no depth. Because the only person out of 7 billion on this planet that counts is themself. The emotions and respect they give to others is fake. Things they do not know or understand and will never feel. But they deserve an academy award for the acting performance they give making it appear real.

We all get hurt and hurt others in this life. It happens and cannot be avoided. But most of us feel bad when we cause others pain. We know what it feels like and do not want others to experience what we have. Particularly if we are the cause of that pain.

However, these people I am talking about? They feel no regret over the pain and heartbreak they cause others. Usually these individuals go to their grave with no remorse whatsoever. In those cases where they do have remorse their feelings of regret, just like the rest of their lives, are for themselves and not the people they’ve hurt. My dad was one of these.

They leave a trail of broken and damaged people in their wake and could not care less. They already had your replacement before you were gone – before you even knew you would be gone.

To the people who cared about these men and women, their emotions are real. When I give them my condolences, they are sincere because my condolences are for them – not for the inhuman monster masquerading as a caring human being. Just as real is my celebration of their death because never again, with malicious forethought, will they damage and hurt another person just for their own selfish gain.

Henry Morgan had a line in The Shootist which best describes my feeling on the passing of women and men in this class of subhuman.

“What I’ll do on your grave the day they lay you away won’t pass for flowers.”

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