Many years ago I read a newspaper story, the authorities were asking for help identifying a body. A man, described as a Mexican of around 40, had been walking at the side of a road late at night, hit by a car and killed.
One of the identifying marks was a lobotomy scar. This was around 1980, which would have had him born around 1940, and at adulthood by a time when they still gave people lobotomies.
What kind of a life did this man have that he had been subjected to a lobotomy as a youth and then killed walking along a dark road as an almost middle-aged man? Pretty rough, pretty dark, pretty sad.
My brother was sort of a big shot among the academic crowd in high school. Although we were supposed to grow up to be scientists, he always thought of himself as an artist, and while a senior he was making a movie at the school. One Monday the school was off for some reason, and the administration let him use the admin building to film. I got to be an extra.
Around 2 a taxi showed up in front of the school. The driver said he came every day to pick some kid up, and nobody had told him there was no school that day.
Why would a high school kid get a taxi ride home every day? I can only speculate his parents were very protective, or he had some trouble on the bus so his parents got him the taxi for that reason. Taxis are expensive, so something bad was going on. Buses were frequently hell for me, and nobody got me a taxi, so at least the kid had some protection.
A friend, possibly former, of mine will have sex with just about any woman. He told me he was having sex with the daughter of the owner of a business he used to work for, and his wife found out, but she refused to believe it because the woman was so ugly. The woman was apparently very ugly and very promiscuous. My friend told me that later she was found dead, apparently murdered in a cheap motel room.
Again, I can only speculate the woman felt very ashamed of being ugly, and had sex with many men to get some sense of her value as a human being. Eventually this led to her bad end.
I have had a pretty crappy life. All I ever wanted was to be normal, all I ever wanted was to be like other people. But that was never an option. And yet I have some good things in my life, and I have some hope.
I wonder where God is for people like these. There are people who don’t just suffer the relatively normal abuses and humiliations of life, but who are doomed to suffer terribly and end hopelessly. I like the idea of praying for the dead, because I can pray for these people.