Ask Why, Then Find How

A few weeks back, I was catching the 6 a.m. flight out of Rochester.

Bleary-eyed and cranky, I was grateful that I didn¹t run into anyone I knew in my early morning stupor.

Jeff Miller’s grown-up kids.

Then I saw an old friend walking towards the gate with great energy and purpose. I wasn¹t going to bother him, but I hadn¹t seen him in a long time. So I opened my eyes, smiled and yelled, “Jeff!” He stopped in his tracks, flashed a bright smile and gave me a huge bear hug. We exchanged a few words and he was on his way. That was it. A brief exchange. But in that moment, my energy increased and I felt instantly awake and, well, hugged.

And then a few days later I got the call that Jeff, Jeff Miller, was the man who was killed when a tree fell on his car, randomly, out of nowhere.

Perhaps you saw the news. If you knew him, you¹re still in shock like I am. Even if you didn’t, you might be shaking your head thinking, “That’s crazy. How could that happen?” And more important, “Why?”

A few weeks back, we all watched in horror as tornadoes tore across Oklahoma. You couldn’t turn on the TV without seeing it played over and over again. I felt the depth of loss for those who were lost in the storm, especially the children. And I couldn’t help but puzzle over the randomness of a tornado which took out some blocks and left others standing completely unharmed; where one school stood untouched and another was completely razed. I found myself asking, “Why?”

And then, on a blustery but beautiful afternoon here, not even during a storm, a random tree falls on a car very close to where I live and kills not an anonymous person but someone I knew, a wonderful man. An amazing father, brother, son and friend. An outstanding athlete, devoted to extreme sports that younger men couldn’t play as well as he: running, cycling and lacrosse, anything that was hard and required great commitment.

This time I couldn’t remove myself. I couldn’t turn off the TV. This wasn’t far away. This was right here. And I couldn’t stop asking, “Why?” When we first moved to Rochester, Jeff and Ellen Miller were some of the first people to welcome us to the community. They introduced us to their friends. Our children were the same age, so we’d have family dinners and celebrate holidays together. There were play dates and kids sports. Then life happened. Kids got older. We didn’t see each other that much. But whenever any Sherman randomly ran into Jeff, there was always that bear hug, a deep-dive check-in on everyone in the family (including the dog) and a sincere interest in our lives. He was always upbeat, positive and so alive.

That random tree took out a guy who touched so many lives not randomly but purposefully. They include his former students, his colleagues, those he coached, those he played hard with, his family and, most important, his

children: three amazing and resilient kids who were the core of his life.

Random storms, acts and even trees can arbitrarily and irrevocably change lives, but they can’t change the ultimate purpose of why we are all here on this planet. In the end, it’s not to ask the question, “Why do these things happen?” but instead to answer the question, “How do we live our lives knowing these things can happen?” How can we ensure that our lives have meaning every day, because today could be the last day? We can live our lives like Jeff Miller did: with the purpose of making a difference. With commitment, strength, resilience and definitely lots of bear hugs for our friends and family.

That’s how. And I suppose, in the end, that’s why.