I don’t understand certain things. I admit this readily. I don’t understand why sometimes people sabotage themselves without realizing it. I don’t understand why good people don’t get ahead while sometimes shadier ones do. Why do children get cancer? Why do we fall in love? Why are there certain people that become our friends and why are there other people we don’t want to be in the same room with? Why do we sometimes not get the things we want and then other times we get what we least expect? Why do we let people ease out of our lives even though we derived pleasure and joy from them?

Do we do this because of habit? Do we do this out of fear? Do we let their hands go because it was too personal and that opening up meant that we might lose something? Are we too busy? What do we fear? What do we need?

Why do we do these and other various things?

Why?

I just don’t know.

If you know me either in real life or online, I think you know a word I say a lot is Why. I ask the question Why because I always think there are things that I want to know, that I’m curious about. I don’t know why I ask this yet it is part of my nature and, believe me, sometimes I wish I had more faith that things happen for a reason but that doesn’t come naturally to me.

Before I moved to Nashville, I met a very nice young man, an artist and musician, who was kind to me. His wife was always kind to me and although I don’t see her as much as I would like to. It was during a time that the online community in Tennessee was thriving and I have fond memories of that segment of memory. I met him, he showed Stephanie and I his art and he was always welcoming.

Why are some people so welcoming and kind, and others are not? Another why I will never get answered.

He is no longer with us. Karsten Soltauer was one of the nice guys that you could talk to about things. He let me ramble about politics when I met him and he could hold a conversation better than most people I know.

I appreciate that. He didn’t write me off. And I feel that he was like me. I think he also asked Why, he just did it better and more eloquently than I ever have.

I probably only met him a handful of times, but each time left a memory, and I was thinking on reading the lovely sentiments about him this week on why he left an impression, and that others don’t. I think the best thing I could say is that he was a man who engaged you and understood the layers of other people far better than most.

He was a man who left an impression.

Why? I don’t know he just did.

And why is he gone because I believe it was far too soon?

I don’t know that either.