Second of two parts
Previously: “In Memory of Lt. Massey”
[Editor’s Note: The first anniversary of the tragic death of uncommonly popular Culver City police Lt. Curt Massey, 41 years old, and father of three small children, comes up on Thursday. En route to work, his car was struck by a wrongway driver on the 10 Freeway. At his funeral at Our Lady of the Angels Cathedral, downtown Los Angeles, on Feb. 6, his stepfather, John Davis, delivered a eulogy for the ages. Later this week, an interview with Padric Davis, Mr. Massey’s mother.]
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Now I am not trying to submit Curt for beatification to sainthood to the Cardinal (at least not at this time) because, and you can trust me on this from first-hand experience, Curt had his human side, his hiccup moments as well.
Some of you who know and love him know these things. Like, early in his life, he staked the claim of Know-It-All.
When he was a teenager and we would go on skiing trips as a family, Curt was the only one who could pack the van. His knowledge of packing exceeded anyone’s. And of course, he was actually always right, which didn’t sit well with his parents or his brothers and sisters.
When it came time to put the snow chains on the car, Curt would tell his two brothers, Eric and Brett, to “stand back” while he took care of it.
Padric and I took all three boys on our honeymoon to Europe for four weeks. (Yes, I don’t know what we were thinking, either.)
But Curt, who never had been to Europe, said he knew everything there was to know about almost everything. He knew how to get around, how to deal with cabs, with restaurant waiters. And he was the only one who could pack the car correctly for each day’s adventure, getting all of our stuff in the trunk — perfectly.
Most of the time, he did a better job because he was meticulous about everything he did. In Munich, however, we ran up against the other side of Mr. Organization and Mr. Right. We all decided we wanted to go to the famous Chinese Beer Garden because the boys were allowed to have beer in Germany at their ages.
But we had to be there before they closed at 5. While Padric and I studied the map and tried to figure out how to drive there, Curt insisted he knew the route to take.
None of us ever had been in Munich before. But Curt insisted he knew exactly how to get there. Padric and I looked at each other and said “Riiiggghhhttt!” Go ahead, Curt. You direct us.
Well, 2 ½ hours later, we arrived at the beer garden as it was closing. It had actually only been about 20 minutes away from where we started. But Curt was sure he knew how to get us there. His brothers were not amused.
Curt was the most organized of our five kids, and also the most sure of everything. Sometimes this almost-role reversal of the child being more knowledgeable and skilled than the parents was more than a little annoying. But the fact of the matter was, the kid was so good at ‘most everything.
What was fun to watch was his exuberance and excitement. When Curt liked something, he really got into it. You could hear the excitement in his voice about the things he loved doing. I think that has been the secret to his success in life.
Through the years, and even as late as last Christmas in Santa Barbara, Curt’s excitement over a couple of new training assignments that had to do with crime scene investigation and terrorist prevention training were quintessential Curt.
His enthusiasm was infectious. His excitement over his work and its important to the community was extraordinary to experience.
The choices we make in life dramatically affect the course of our life. Curt’s ability to make good choices as a person is, perhaps, best portrayed in a scene from Clint Eastwood’s movie, “Iwo Jima.” When the American-educated Japanese officer asks the young wounded American soldier, what was the most important thing he had ever learned from his mother, the young American said, “She always told me to do the right thing.” That expression exemplifies how Curt lived his life.
I could go on and on about this special young man. But I won’t because we all know of his specialness. To lose him in such a random way defies reason. We’ve lost our wing man, our protector.
How do we fill the hole in our hearts?
In Gibran’s “The Prophet,” his essay on joy and sorrow can inform our perspective. He describes a central truth in the mystery of life when he says that joy and pain are inseparable, and to remember that that which gives us sorrow is also that which gives us joy. He says when we are sorrowful, look again in your heart. You will see the truth that you are weeping for is that which is giving you joy. In other words, we suffer pain only because we have been touched by joy.
There was so much joy in Curt. He was a devoted husband and father, a wonderful son, a loving brother and a trusted friend. He is my son, and he is my friend.
Curt knew how much he was loved.
So how do we deal with this horrific event?
How can we wrap our minds around our loss and go on, particularly since we cannot comprehend the mystery of life?
The fact is, we are all subject to fate, primarily because God gave us free will. It seems pretty clear to me that God is not providential, in the sense of protecting us from random acts of tragedy, because we are free to live in a precarious world without much protection from accidents or illnesses.
The gift of free will comes without protection from it. How else can we explain the great tragedies that have fallen on good men, good women and good children since the beginning of time?
However, I do believe that our souls are not apart from God but rather a part of God. Therefore, Curt’s soul is very much alive in God. He is just not physically with us. While this fact is hard on us, Curt’s light and presence and goodness very much abide with us and will throughout our lives, and then together on into eternity. God holds Curt in the hollow of his hand.
I would like to close with some words of wisdom from the prophet Isaiah, written about 2600 years ago, around 580 B.C.
Lift up your eyes to the heavens; consider who created it all, led out their host, one by one, and called them all by their names; through his great might, his might and power, not one is missing. Why do you complain, O Jacob, and you, Israel? Why do you say, “My plight is hidden from the Lord and my cause has passed out of God’s notice?” Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord, the everlasting God, Creator of the wide world, grows neither weary nor faint; no man can fathom his understanding. He gives vigor to the weary, new strength to the exhausted.
Young men may grow weary and faint. Even in their prime, they may stumble and fall. But those who look to the Lord will win new strength. They will grow wings like eagles. They will run and not be weary. They march on and never grow faint.
Melody, Emily, Nicholas, Christian, Padric, Steve and Jan, and Curt’s brothers and sisters: Brett, Eric, Jill, Holly, Christy, Patrick, Blaine, Sonia and Rachel, and dear family and friends:
Curt did look to the Lord, and he has won new strength. He is growing wings like eagles, and will run and not be weary. He will march on forever. Amen.
