musings on mortality
On FB I am Friends with a large number of cartoonists, so for a few days now my feed has been filled with tributes and remembrances of Bernie Wrightson, who passed on the weekend. Much as happened with Darwyn Cooke last year, all these folks are remarking on not just what a great comic artist the guy was, but what a wonderful person and good friend.
And for some reason I find that I keep thinking about what these people are going to say when I go.
I am nowhere near the major figure [commercially or artistically] that Wrightson or Cooke are, so there isn't much reason for anyone to talk about how I was one of The Great Comic Artists. And these people barely know me, so they won't be talking about what a Good Guy I was either.
I find myself wondering if I ought to be more gregarious and outgoing, so that people will know me better and hopefully think of me as a friend. But then that strikes me as being fake and manipulative. It took me a long time to figure out who I really am, and I feel like I owe it to myself to be that person, even if I am in many ways not as good at human-ing as a lot of others are.
Besides, I have always told myself that I don't really care what people say about me when I'm gone, because I won't be here and I'll never know. What I mostly hope for is that someone will read my work after I go. But again, I'll never know whether they do or not, will I.
Not really sure what I'm getting at here, other than "I yam what I yam", for both good and ill, I guess.