52 - that's my number

Numbers are important, 9/11, 666, 7, and the 12 steps, all conjure an image, some images are good and some are bad. We can add 52 to the list now. The 52 minutes of suffering felt by Abu Musab al-Zarqawi after our military dropped two bombs on his safehouse. 52 minutes of payback, of crushing pain, of final justice metered out cowboy style to a monster. The blog were full of these sentiments a few days ago. At first I agreed with my fellow bloggers, but then I thought about what really scares me concerning death.

That death, if instant, is so rapid that you are not able to finish your thought. You do not get a chance to prepare yourself for what is to come; instead, you are not even aware you have died. You are just gone.

I would rather have seen Zarqawi’s death be sudden and unexpected, when the big sleep came for him, it should have been like flipping off a light switch. One moment Zarqawi was plotting evil. The next minute, no the next second, Zarqawi was gone.

His suffering, as so lovingly captured by the media, is a disappointment. He may have been aware enough to offer a prayer, issue a command, or reflect on his detestable accomplishments. What if Zarqawi had spent his last few moments reliving the beheading of Nicholas Berg? His agony could have been ecstasy. A quick death would have been better.

There are other numbers that are important in this story, take the numbers 18, 16, and 14:

18 - The age of his son in months
16 - Is the age of his wife (deceased)
14 - The age of his child bride

That’s right, the bastard was a child molester as-well-as a murdering terrorist. He married and impregnated a 14 year girl. If I believed in hell, I would wish that Zarqawi burn in it. However, even without hell, I am comforted by the thought the he is dead. Unfortunately, he will never be forgotten.


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