I am angry.
I do not want the “I’m sorries” and “My condolences”.
I would like things to be fair.
Good people – live.
Bad people – die.
Seems simple enough right? Then why does God get it wrong so many times?
There are some evil people who live long, prosperous lives, who get to pass peacefully in their sleep, while genuinely good people suffer, and die long before they fulfil their potential.
I have a friend who is suffering from cancer. He hasn’t passed away yet, but he is on life support and everyone has said their goodbyes. He was young – not even twenty five- and bright, and all he ever wanted to do was write movies. Unfortunately he was born in a place and time where such dreams are unheard of.
Like many others, I didn’t take him seriously when I met him. He was awkward and shy, and could barely express himself. It took me a while to read his screenplay, and when I did it was wrought with spelling and grammatical errors.
Yet, I couldn’t stop reading. He had a brilliant knack for storytelling.
I was in awe. It was rare to find someone who was so poor at English to want to be a writer. Normally people who struggle with English tend to keep as far as possible from the written word. But here he was, writing and writing, getting frustrated as I found a few errors every paragraph but NEVER giving up.
I told him to stop getting frustrated, and not to worry about spelling errors – that’s what an editor is for. I told him to just get the story and ideas down and then we’ll clean it up later.
And he listened.
As usual, many people read his scripts, and wanted to produce them, but everything stalled when the words “money” or “funding” were mentioned.
Soon the demands from life and family prompted him to get a “decent job”, and although he didn’t stop writing, the dedicated time to his craft significantly decreased.
I’ve since learned that if you want something done, just get up and make it happen. Stop worrying about the probable challenges and obstacles, and just deal with them as they arrive. You can’t overcome a roadblock if you never set off on the journey.
Saying goodbye was such a cliché movie moment. Damn you Hollywood and your overuse of dramatic, emotional scenes.
I’m there in the hospital room, talking and hoping that he can hear me, telling him all the things he already knew, praying that somehow it would make his passing easier.
It was a reality check. Follow your dreams – time waits for no one. On your deathbed you won’t cry about spending more time at the office, but your mind will go back that notebook with unseen stories and ideas hidden in a drawer.
I mourn for all of his unborn ideas.
I don’t like being angry, but I will use it to my advantage.
If he had just been around for a few more months, he may have gotten a chance to see one of his scripts produced.
All you wanted to do was write movies, and I promise that your work will appear on screen.
