No Promise of Tomorrow

Early January 30, 2010 MySpace and Facebook statuses, bulletins, and display names all over the twin cities were plagued by the chilling statement, “RIP Darius – Dirty – Maxwell”. It seemed like the cyber world had went into deep mourning, sad emoticons and depressing words each time you hit the refresh button. Many had known him since elementary school, many claimed him as family. Yet no one saw it coming. No one got the chance to say goodbye.

At 12:07 am that January morning 19 year old Philip Eugene Elphage broke into his ex-girlfriend’s home and questioned Darius, trying to find out if he was the female’s new partner. Out of anger, jealousy and rage, Philip repeatedly stabbed 17 year old Darius. He died at 1:20 that same morning. I personally did not know Darius, but felt as if I did after hearing and reading numerous accounts of disbelief, shock and resentment from my personal friends and acquaintances. Everyone felt as if the floor of assurance and safety they had firmly been planted on was snatched from beneath them. Some blame God, while others blame the tangible culprit.
            Often of times we all go through the day complaining, focusing on what didn’t go planned or what didn’t go our way, proclaiming days as “bad days”. I believe, as one entertainer said, “If you woke up this morning… You are having a good day.”

That same early January morning, I was taken to the hospital. Riding in the back of the ambulance with oxygen being fed through my nose, my heart pounded. I began to think about how I had gone about the previous hours before all of this. Did I complain today? Had I enjoyed every moment leading up to what prompted the 911 call? Will I make it out the hospital unlike Darius Maxwell? Fortunately, I returned home a few hours later. As I was talking to one of my closest friend we began talking about Darius. Several members of her family were extended family of his. I asked her if she was alright, and in response she said “yea I’ll be fine, are you ok?” And as cliché and standard as it sounds I said “Yea I’m alive, I’m more than fine =)”. Concerned, she told me “that don’t mean you’re ok though.” My reply, “Yea it does, I’m just glad my name wasn’t next to RIP in somebody’s status. I can’t be anything but happy.”

It hasn’t been long since the day of Darius’ death and my visit to the hospital, but yet I have managed to make sure I don’t lie in my bed at night without a smile or without thinking about the positive things that made the day so special. I go through just as much as the next person, though at times it feels like even more. So I am not saying my days are always perfect or that I never start to develop a negative outlook on life. I just strive to live everyday as if it was my last because I also strongly believe, since no one knows what is in store for tomorrow, when the day is over each person should be able to look back and be satisfied with how they lived that day, as if it was their last.