Jimmy Mizen died in the arms of his brother. It is almost too sad to bear, too much to take in. I'm almost sobbing now as I remember holding Jacky Marshall after she was stabbed at McDonalds in Chichester.
Jimmy was a Catholic... like me. I was 16 years old; working for exams at a Catholic comprehensive about that time of life, I recall. Those happy video shots of the lively, fun chap make me smile a little midst the sorrow.
It's difficult to write in the midst of some violent death - many of us I know pause to absorb the sadness, grief, such seeming tragic waste of life. And, you know, typing these words sounds hollow to me... why do I write about it?
For someone who's been in the media, I know I was not given to self-promotion like some - I became a communications worker to serve a world of readers, to help bring understanding, knowledge that might be useful, to shine in dark places that need illuminating etc. But it's fine line. When you, as the writer, are seen in the throng of difficult times, people naturally watch and study you in the ensuing spotlight.
All I know is I don't like writing about these kind of things - but communicate about them it seems we must. If we have to learn by interacting at such events via the Internet, reading, tv etc, that more must be done to stop violent fools taking someone's life, then so be it... I write it.
All I feel I can say is - let's all learn something by it. And we can all pray, like we have never prayed before.
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