I Don't Know How To Stop You From Crying Poem by Greg Luti

Why did this happen?

Why did he have to die?

Why?



She asked me as I stood there motionless.



I don't know.



I really didn't.



I know a lot of things.


I know the key to knowledge is to know thyself.

The key to war is to know your enemy,

And the key to freedom is truth.



I can tell you about Waterloo.

How Napoleon could have won the battle

And what he did after losing it.



I even know the biological makeup of your heart.

There are two atriums and two ventricles and your left ventricle does most of the work.

Which is why not all heart attacks are the same.



I can talk about JFK's assassination.

How the mob may have done it.

Whether there was more than one shooter.

And why some think Johnson was the culprit.



I can inform you of fun facts of the best president.

Lincoln had a high-pitched voice.

He read aloud to himself since he thought that would help him remember things.

He was known for being a local celebrity in his youth… for… get this… wrestling.



I know of Chamberlain's 100-point game

Namath's guaranteed victory,

And how the mighty Casey struck out.



I know a lot of things.

But I don't know why he died.

Why do bad things happen to good people?

Why do the bad guys live the longest?

Why is there no justice?

If everything happens for a reason, what is the reason for this?



Logically speaking, it is choice.

But you don't want to hear that.



Choice is the reason for the tragedy.

Like how you chose to cry and feel in pain.

Like how you'll choose to go to the funeral.

Like how you'll choose to bury him.



To answer this with choice is alleviating myself of any real human responses we all have.



When we are in a classroom talking of determinism, choice sounds good.

The teacher can tell you of hard and soft and how they differ.

Students can give their opinions on free will.

And everyone can then watch The Matrix.



Choice is why God allows bad in this world.

Because without that, we can never truly be free.



Yeah. Explain that now, smart guy.



As she is crying over his casket.

As the visiting room fills up.

As the priest begins to say a few words.



The best answer I have for why do people die…



I truly don't know.

But I know that you're hurting, you're down and you're upset and that's ok.

Have a heart of flesh, not of stone.

Your tears are for all the love you have for him.

If you didn't love him, you wouldn't be crying.

This world will not give you what you want…

An answer.



I'm sorry, but it won't, and neither can I.

I bullshit for a living, but even I have no words here.



You can accept that and then see what the world tells you.



You will die one day.

You only have so much time here.



Acceptance of the unknown is your only option.



Accept the world as the heart-wrenching place it is.

One that allows the good to be used, the bad to rule, and the weak to be abused.

And then work to make it better.



Cause you know what?

You're still here.

You still have something to give this world.

You still have a life to live.



Promise to yourself, to me, and to him, that you will live a life that improves the world every day you are in it.



If you help the world in his honor, it'll be as if he never died.



You may not know why he died, but you can say what you did after it happened.