It is fascinating to live in a culture where violence is played out in our entertainment and our news and yet death is little more than a side note, the end of a story, an incident in a movie, an anecdote we hear.
A friend of mine has been working in Pittsburg, 'refurbishing' a relative's house. Luba, my friend's aunt-n-law was not the tidiest of women and she wasn't very beautiful. She lived in a house with various relics from different centuries. A beautiful house on tiered hill which must have made mowing the lawn difficult for anyone who volunteered or received a paper-route payment for attempting the task.
My friend told me that when she died it was actually peaceful. She put on a new silken night gown, did her hair and applied some make-up and then, with everything in place, she sat down beside the bathroom sink, closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall, giving herself up to the Almighty mystery. The neighbor later told my friend she looked 'beautiful', serene. Even the cop was impressed in the manner she had passed on.
The other week, a co-worker of mine had to leave work early because she received some terrible news. A friend of hers had overdosed and died in the middle of the night. Just two days ago she went to the funeral. The guy who died had been young and if anything, his death was unnecessary.
But to say death is unnecessary... is it possible? From the old woman to the young man, the common thread is mortality. We are mortal but we are rarely aware of mortality. It's like we live in this plastic world of plastic worries - credit cards, bills, televisions, computers, get-togethers. We have our lives and we live and before I go on, I must stress that I'm not using the word 'plastic' in the sense of shallow or pre-fabricated but 'pliable'. We are molded by our concerns and our habits. In a sense how we live can give us an indication of how we will die.
Luba even though she wasn't a silken gown kind of gal, there was an inner nobility and what better way to announce it in death by adorning her human frame, making it noble. And the young man who died of an overdose - the sword he wielded was the sword that took him down.
Recently I learned my father is forestalling a trip to Europe to take care of some urgent health matters. His doctor advised him to put off his vacation in order to address some heart 'issues'. He made need a shunt or an operation to relieve pressure in his chest.
When he told me this, I thought about his life, his habits, the things he ate, all the beer he drank in pubs. Does it all add up? I'm sure it does. And yet, I also began to think f my own youth, my present life. Am I really young? or is it an illusion. I can't say my diet is a 100% healthy or perfect but I'm not terrible.
But then there are times after climbing some stairs where I feel a little winded... hmmm....
I'm also concerned with his future presence. I want to have kids and for my kids to have a grandfather. I want him to share in the joy of being around my children.
The news has hit me and I feel it in my gut, my chest, my head. I feel it the way you might get on a roller coaster and even though you were expecting that first drop, for some reason it's almost a surprise.
A surprise but strange. I veer between the philosophical and the emotional trying to avoid the latter. But emotions are inevitable and for me, discomforting. To be mortal and not give a thought to mortality until it's there in front of you, close to you, touching you.
We all have these bodies and live with the mind set this is the way it's always going to be. But it's not. That's the illusion, the fallacy. Maybe it's healthier to acknowledge death everyday, it's closeness as oppose to be shocked by it when an echo of its presence is felt.
