As the world reels with the shock that our beloved Oscar Pistorius gunned down his girlfriend on the day everyone was suppose to spread the love, whatever the reasons, two people died. One will be buried in the next couple of days and the other died on the same day but will only be buried years later. My heart bleeds for both.
Reeva Steenkamp was standing on the precipice of greatness, poised to take on the world as a model and celebrity in her own right. Oscar had the world bowing down to him already. The typical South African spirit of endurance, triumph and will to succeed. How is it that one moment of weakness changed it all for both of them?
Of the two, I would wager that Reeva is the one better off. Not for having had her life cut so short but because her rest will be more peaceful than Oscar’s. I can’t fathom how he would be able to continue living after flying so high and having to come down so low. Of all the stories I’ve read of him, the New York Times one being more revealing, he was always his own worst enemy. His need for speed in more than the track, his temperament coupled with insecurities he hid under his success, eventually in one way or the other way, would have contributed to his undoing. When tragedy strikes, it is so much easier to blame external forces, but when you are responsible for your own destruction, it is much more painful to face.
I am deeply sorry for the Steenkamp family who lost, by everyone’s account who knew her, a really beautiful daughter, inside and out. But it’s very hard for me to feel anything except pity for the Fallen Star called Oscar Pistorius. Whether it was an accident or not, living with this will be a very hard pill to swallow.
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