I've sometimes fantasized about death and tried to imagine how friends and acquaintances might think of me after I'm gone. Never did I imagine one of my friends dying before me. My first reaction was shock, followed by annoyance. How rude! To go before me! I don't like someone dying before their time and without any warning at all. It is impolite. But who can control the body? For that matter, who can control the mind? One way or the other, we all will bite the dust. Precautions postpone, but don't prevent. Oh no. Death will take every jogger, every vitamin-gulper.
There's a sense of unreality when a friend dies. I saw her just two months ago. I'm going to see her again for Christmas, surely. What about our Christmas party? We always have a Christmas party together. My dear friend is not dead, no, this is all a terrible hoax, people are mistaken, they have gotten everything wrong. Silly people, always getting things wrong. I know better. I know she is alive, because she is strong and good and wise and would never go just like that, never in a million years.
Reality did not hit me until I saw the sign in front of the funeral home with her name on it. I blinked my eyes, as I used to do when I was a boy, thinking I could take a photograph that way, preserving the image in my mind forever. And you know what I was thinking? I wanted to go back in time a year and tell her what I foresaw this evening, that dreadful sign with her name on it. I wanted to tell her to go to the doctor before it's too late. Don't you see, you mad, mad woman? You dear, dear friend. I loved you so.
Had thou put thy hand in mine, I'd have preserved thee ten more years, my Valentine.
One afternoon when she was in my house, I gave her a gold ring with a four-carat sapphire and told her it was the color of her eyes. She never wore it, and years later gave it back to me when my finances were diminished and the sands of her hourglass had almost run out.
Not everyone wants to stick around in this old world of ours, and I understand that. She had her reasons to not seek cures, to not seek the advice of friends, to escape our nagging and tugging and pulling. If she had just told me what's what, I might have known what to say or do, but all that's over now. I suppose she knew quite well what I would say, what other friends would say, and that's why she didn't tell us.
What do we know anyway? Maybe we are wrong, and she is right. I do not know all the facts. I don't know all the factors. Her passing is shrouded in mystery.
I believe she did not wish to become very old, sick, dependent on others, confused, weak, falling into errors of judgment and understanding. Who can blame her? Not me. Not anyone. I have seen people in this state. I understand. I do not wish to become like that either.
I think it is an ill thing when a person lives alone. I think human beings should live together for the sake of well-being. I did share this with her once, asked her whether she might consider dating again, looking for a partner or even just a friend to live with. It's never too late. But no.
At the funeral home, I tried to get a sense of whether there was any vestige of her remaining in the world. The afterlife is an appealing notion to me. I would be delighted to entertain a ghost. I would be delighted to become a ghost. How I would love to pass invisible through walls and observe the doings of others and--hopefully--intervene for the sake of what's right.
I would not be afraid of a ghost. I would welcome one.
I only sense the material reality around me. I continue to believe that death marks the annihilation of the individual, that there is no soul. Yet it is also true that humans are alike and there will be others like her, like me, like you. Redundancy, that's the word. The human race has redundancy built-in, certainly, now that our population is in the billions. Boring, yes. A bit unpleasant, yes. But those characteristics correlate with reality.
She endures in the memories of her friends. Based on my memories, I believe she was pleased with me. We were on good terms, always respectful, always friendly, cordial.
1 comment:
I find myself more compelled to face reality because of your articulate recaps of it and it's tragedies. It's more motivating than the winter sun kissed window of my own room here. The glass only lets in the heat and a frost stained visage that otherwise deceitfully flaunts a beautiful summer's day, but step one foot out there and it is actually freezing. Too bright, too. I avert my gaze from many tragic occurrences in life.
It sounds like you've dealt with a lot. You must have a lot of friends, but death seems determined to punctuate your existence either as an idle whim or as a toll for attracting so many.
sucks
But your reads are so interesting.
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