For Whom the Bell Tolls

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D.L. Crumpton

Daniel Louis Crumpton is a political activist, poet, artist, student of comparative religions, philosopher and novelist whose debut novel "THEN CAME THE FLOOD" is soon to be released.
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Death is a relentless whore isn’t it? I mean everything is going according to plan and then all of the sudden, out of nowhere, lady death comes along and touches someone you love which snatches them away as if to mock all of the unfinished things you wanted to say and do with them as if they were nothing more than paper tigers in the fire. They were there and eternity was left for you to develop your relationship, or so it seemed, and then suddenly they were not.

Dorian Flagg had just recently published a piece on Eric Bell just before we at Zen in the Car got word that he lost his Father. I don’t really believe in coincidence but for the sake of this prose perhaps we should just chalk it up to that so as not to get collective nose bleeds.

I imagine that right now the Bell family is either sitting at their home, overwhelmed with family they haven’t seen in ages or running around their hometown in search of plots, plans, and ties wondering why the world hasn’t stopped yet. This is a good question I think. Why hasn’t the world stopped? Shouldn’t it? I mean, there was someone in the world who lived, who loved, who has a story and this person is no longer with us. This person, regardless of worldly titles or numbers of income which might suggest their importance was a real human being that walked this Earth. He had a wife, children, passions, goals, aspirations, visions, imaginations, downfalls and of course hopes for those outside of himself. The world should stop, if we lived in a world that was sane. So there is no reason why the Bell family should be begrudged their curious question as to why the world hasn’t stopped; because for them it has.

For the next week things will be rushed. Everything will go by in a blur. The names and faces of everyone saying how sorry they are will eventually wear thin and become painful to the point where explosions of the inner pain will beg to come up and out into explosions of anger. Then, after a time, the faces will disappear. The well wishes will quell and it will seem as if everyone has gone back to …”normal”…except for those closest to the loss. For them, a week off of work and a funeral isn’t going to quite do it. For them life has changed forever, and at first seemingly for the horrid worse. All of their paths will go into shadow, loneliness, and despair and at this place they will then have to understand what the death of a loved one is truly all about.

Is this about Eric Bell’s father, Tom Bell? Yes and no. Eric is not the only member of the growing Liberty movement who has lost someone recently. To my knowledge Jason the First, Curtis Sirmans, and few others have had the unfortunate experience of not being able to say goodbye in a fashion they should have had chosen for those departed from them. These people are considered my brothers by the compass of my heart, and in that title I must say that though their loss is not felt exactly the same by yours truly…it is felt. Those who have lost things precious have no problem sympathizing with those in loss. However I will take this time to hold up a light specifically for Tom Bell, a man I have never met, because quite frankly in that much to be aspired sane world all men would stop and hold up a light for any loss.

We as a people are too connected to the material. We wish to touch, to taste, to hug, to smell to embrace. All of these things are what we think connect us to the world around us and all of these things keep us in a sort of prison. We see those we love as physical bodies which encompass the totality of what we love about them. We see red hair, or brown eyes and we fool ourselves into thinking that these are the things which make our loved ones loved. We either embrace smooth and silky skin or rough and leathered hide and without thought imagine this is who we embrace. Not so. Let me explain.

I have never met Eric Bell. I have never met Tom Bell. However I have read the latest edition of the Elephant in the Room subtitled Bruce Lee Bell. Now, though Dorian Flagg was witness to those events, and was inspired enough to write about them, I must unabashedly say that I read his words and from them truly felt inspired. I read about a young man who embodied the very definition of nobility and self sacrifice in a blog and sat back from it envious of his gall. I was jealous that Dorian Flagg had seen so much in Eric Bell, that I wished to be something akin to Eric Bell. Something noble. Something true. Something so unafraid of the outside opinion of the world and so bold as to take action to bring Freedom and Liberty to all those living in Georgia. As I read the post about Eric Bell I must say that I was taken back in absolute awe of what he had done at the State republican convention.

How is this relevant? You ask. Well to tell you the truth it is because without Tom Bell, without his life, his story, his family, his legacy and his son; that inspiration could not exist. Regardless of the relationship Eric had with his father, one thing can be counted on and it is that without Tom Bell there could have never been an Eric Bell. What that means is that all the failures, successes, pearls of wisdom, examples of failure and trials through tribulation actually amount to something. They aren’t just points of confusion on a timeline no one is keeping. They are all milestones in the shaping of our collective future. The fact of the matter is that every single life that is, has been or yet to be is important to the sustaining of our world and Tom Bell is no exception.

So, and though I know my words are weak and limp, I wish to offer them in condolence to the Bell Family. I don’t know you and I have never met a one of you, yet I must admit your name has put in me a spirit of goodness and hope through the actions of your son, Eric. That being said I also understand that what Eric is, what he has done, and what he is doing all encompass the best goodness firmly instilled in him by his father no doubt.

We foolishly imagine that the ones we have lost are lost because our five senses cannot touch taste smell or see them. If only we understood in the time of our loss that death is actually a supernova, and our loved ones have simply grown to such a state of splendor that their vile bodies could no longer contain their glory and they have exploded into stars and galaxies. We can walk outside on a starry night, look up and see a little remnant of them, but it is only when we invoke within the self the things which they have instilled there that we understand that those who we have lost through death are actually immortal unto life through our day to day being, and in the realization that because they were, we are.

Our best to the Bell Family.

Order Then Came the Flood Here

About D.L. Crumpton

Daniel Louis Crumpton is a political activist, poet, artist, student of comparative religions, philosopher and novelist whose debut novel "THEN CAME THE FLOOD" is soon to be released.

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