that Jay is gone and that this is what he wanted. The more time passes the less it makes sense. Things don't add up. Stories and reports contradict. Maybe it is my heart trying to confuse my brain, but I simply can't accept it.
It is as if he walked to the edge of a cliff and thought about jumping. But before he could finish his internal struggle, he tripped, or maybe he was pushed. Either way, it was he who put himself next to the cliff and I have to hold him responsible for that. But that is all that my heart and my mind will allow.
It is simply tragic.
And in all the great tragedies, the hero dies. He is never perfect, but there is something wonderful and compelling about him that makes him loved and admired. He has a vitality that makes him real, so real that it is often too much for his antagonists to bear.
Simultaneously, the hero has that fatal flaw that inevitably leads to his end. That vital force that drives him to excellence cannot tolerate anything less, especially in himself.
So as our hero faces his mortality and the fallen nature of humanity, his next action becomes irrelevant. Because the sword that scratched him had already been dipped in poison. The message about the apothecary's potion never arrived. And we watched helplessly as the hero's body was dragged behind the warrior's chariot.
Fate intervened and this is what Fate allowed.
When Jay put on that red shirt he could not have known how the day would unfold. How could he have foreseen that he would be surrounded by 12 police officers? He couldn't have. No, that red shirt has another meaning. It is symbolic, for sure, but it's meaning eludes me.
Perhaps I need to accept, that only the Author knows.
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