When someone close to us dies, we mostly grieve in private.
We share what we loved about them with family and friends.
We exchange stories about them we’ll never forget.
But if they aren't well known to our social circle, we wrestle within ourselves and with those we hold close.
When someone like Hulk Hogan or Ozzy Osbourne died earlier this year, many people paid their respects more publicly.
They are eulogized, acknowledged for their contributions, and remembered for the stories of their lives, the good and the bad.
When a young, extremely influential political figure like Charlie Kirk is killed in public, people rush to tell you what it means.
Some mourn.
Some mock.
Some scroll past.
Some post a think piece before many people even hear the news.
Regardless of what it means to you, it certainly matters.
But the emotional and moral weight of a moment like this deserves more than a flippant hot take while the algorithm is hot.
And whether it’s a rock star, a wrestler, or a political firebrand, the truth is the same: human beings are more complex than the stories we’re told about them.
Public grief is public tension.
When someone polarizing dies, it reveals the split screens we all live in.
Charlie Kirk built something big. He inspired, provoked, influenced, and divided. You may admire him. You may find his legacy painful. Both can be true.
Human beings are not one dimensional. We're full of contradictions. Sometimes to our own detriment. We are also capable of creating lasting positive impact on the world that continues after we're gone
This is true for Charlie, Terry Bollea (Hulk Hogan), John Michael Osborne, and whoever you've lost in your life so far.
But public figures are created in our minds through the information we're given, rarely from personal experience.
The Internet has amplified the narrative machine, and equipped almost everyone with the ability to share whatever they see fit.
Platforms frame the reaction before you even realize you're having one.
Before you feel, you're told how to feel.
Before you think, you're told what to think.
That’s not truth.
Not all of it, anyway.
And if we’re not careful, we will be overcome by the tidal wave of information or succumb to the siren song of the algorithm and lose our connection to our own thoughts and the real world.
“🚨BREAKING NEWS” is breaking us.
So what can we do?
Respond with virtue, not viral speed.
As I've reflected on the event of Charlie Kirks death over the last week and the impact this moment has made on the country and the hearts and minds of my East Texas neighbors, this is where I'm focusing my attention:
Love: For the people affected, even those I disagree with.
Curiosity: For the questions no one’s asking and the information that challenges what I already know.
Wisdom: For the truth beyond the headlines and talking points.
Courage: For saying something meaningful—or nothing at all.
If those aren’t leading my reaction, I wait.
It’s tempting to treat every online moment like a call to action.
But you don’t have to comment.
You don’t have to post.
You don’t have to “take a stand.”
You do have to live with integrity.
You do have to show up in real life.
This moment—like every other—is a chance to practice being who we say we want to be.
Loving.
Curious.
Wise.
Courageous.
That’s the kind of person I want to be.
Not someone who’s always right.
But someone who’s always real.
Thanks for being here.
- Aaron