How Bob Saget Has Changed My Life
I recently, in the last few months, came to the conclusion, after a life-time of contemplation, that for many reasons, kindness is the meaning of life.
Then Bob Saget died 28 days ago and I have cried every single day since because of his death. No, I did not know Mr. Saget nor was I particularly a fan. I saw Full House a few times, maybe, not really my thing. I certainly laughed with him through the years, he was a funny man, but I can not say I remember a performance that made me go, wow.
I did want to see his stand-up act, I heard he was pretty raunchy, with a much more adult sense of humor than the parts he usually played as an actor. I will always regret that I did not make a greater effort to see one his live shows.
So why the hell have I cried about him every day for 28 days? Love. I am not sure I have ever seen and read, in my 56 years, about anyone that was that loved and that gave the people in his life so much love, unconditional love. Every tribute, that I can remember, also mentions what a kind man he was, often with the words that he was the kindest person they ever knew.
I cry like a baby every single time I read a new tribute. It has been pretty amazing, to be honest, and I wonder when it will end. Will I be on my death bed some day years from now reading about how much that kid that lived down the street from Saget when they were in the 6th grade, loved him with all his heart because he was so kind to the “fat kid” that everyone else picked on. Who knows, maybe.
I am one of those poor souls that, because of pain and trauma in my early years, has spent my life running away from anything that even resembles love. Yes, I am one of those brilliant types that subconsciously believes that if I never get close to anyone ever again, I will never be hurt by anyone ever again. Such a sad, lonely, fucked up life, if you can call it a life, I have lived.
And then Mr. Saget died. It did not happen over night but in these few days since he died I have decided that is the way I am going to live my life. Because in addition to being brilliant, I am also pretty slow, an amazing combination.
I am 56 and it took the death of a celebrity to make me finally wake up and realize, this is the way to live your life, that the way I have done it, well, it just leads to more opportunities to contemplate how fucking miserable I am, like being miserable was all that life had in store for me.
Yep, Mr. Brilliant Slow Dude thought that being miserable was just my destiny, and nope, it has nothing to do with how I have actually lived my life. Nope, no way.
I have made the decision that if you are in my life, I am going to love you. It’s OK if you do not love me in return as I can not control your actions and feelings but I can control my actions and, occasionally, my feelings. I had already decided to be as kind as possible to everyone I encountered thanks to my revelation about the meaning of life and, well, how can adding love to the recipe not make it that much tastier a way to soak up a life.
The one person in my life that ever truly loved me was my Mom, she was 45 years old when I was born and despite horrible physical damage including brain damage that happened in a car accident when I was 15 years old, the beautiful creature loved me with every molecule of her being. She did not even recognize me as her son but she certainly could spend hours telling this “stranger” how much she loved her son.
She left this mortal coil years ago but I still love her in return with every molecule of my being, I cry every single day thinking about her, I miss her so much. Yeah, I am actually capable of loving someone, and I can not think of a greater tribute to her than this Bob Saget joke, “I love my Mom! You can too for $12!”
Thanks Mr. Saget, for changing my life around for the better. I mean that with all my heart and I can say, with no reservations, I love you and always will.
Now that I think about it, maybe the meaning of life is not kindness, maybe the meaning of life is Bob Saget?
RIP, Mr. Saget.
Love,
Carl R. White
