Void
Since my father’s passing in July 2014, death and dying are often on my mind. I mean, it’s always been something I’ve thought of in kind of an abstract way, but for the last 18 months or so, I think about it a LOT. In addition to my father’s, I attended another 4 funerals in the second half of 2014 alone, which probably didn’t help my mindset.
When I was a kid, I don’t think I really got the concept of mortality. Sure, I had pets that died, and that made me sad, but dogs weren’t supposed to live long anyway, right? And I’m sure some celebrities died too, but they were OLD! People die when they’re old, it’s just the way life is supposed to go.
The first celebrity deaths that had any impact on me occurred on May 16th, 1990. I was twenty years old and watching television when the regularly scheduled programming was interrupted. I knew that Sammy Davis Jr., one of my father’s favourites, had been quite ill for some time, so I expected the news reporter to announce his passing. He did, but he also announced a shocker - Jim Henson. How could it be? How could two beloved personalities both be dead on the same day? It was inconceivable. But I shrugged it off the way that only a self-involved teen can (and let’s face it, at 20, I was a teenager in all ways except for the literal number) - I figured they were old and following the normal circle of life.
Over the years, there have been other celebrity deaths that affected me greatly - Michael Hutchence in ’97, Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett in 2009, and of course David Bowie and Alan Rickman this week, just to name a few. But as I advance in years, I’m realizing that my theory is not always correct - people don’t only die when they are old, it’s just that my concept of what is *old* is a little bit more accurate now that I’m an adult.
Back in my elementary school days, anyone who was out of high school was ancient. In Quebec, by the by, the average age of a high school graduate is 17. By the time I was of high school graduation age, I thought that life literally ended at 30. I couldn’t imagine anyone living, or at least living WELL beyond that age. I thought that if somehow you managed to live past 30, you’d certainly be in a home of some sort having to be carried to the bathroom and being fed all your meals because you were too feeble to do anything yourself.
Well. Obviously my views have matured since then. I know more about the world than what happens right around me, and I realize that “old” is much much older than I thought it was. It isn’t even the type of thing you can put a definite number on because it depends on the attitude of the person in question.
But no matter how you slice it, 18 is not old. Neither is 30. And, in my opinion, anyone under 80 is too young to die.
When I heard about Sammy and Henson’s deaths, I brushed it off to “old age”. But Sammy Davis Jr. was only 65, and Jim Henson was 54. Isn’t 65 retirement age? One is not supposed to die at the same time as they retire…
The friends and family I lost in 2014 were of varied ages - my dad was 75, my mother in law was 66, and 2 friends were only 47. And all of them were taken too soon. My grandmother passed away this past October aged 97 years and 3 days. Now THAT’s a life. I’m not saying that we were happy when she died, but we could all take comfort that she had lived a full life, and was ready to go. Not so in many of the other cases. Although we were somewhat prepared for the loss of my father and mother in law because they had been ill for so long, that wasn’t the case with our friends. Their deaths were a shock to everyone.
I kind of hope that I take after my mother’s side of the family - her mother passed at 97, and her grandmother passed at 100+ years of age, despite living in a third world country without proper medical care. But now I know there are no guarantees. I could live to a ripe old age, or I could get hit by a bus next week. I do know that, whenever it happens, it will leave a hole in the hearts of whoever I leave behind, just like I have holes for Daddy, Liz, Granny, Tanja, and Leigh. R.I.P.
When I was a kid, I don’t think I really got the concept of mortality. Sure, I had pets that died, and that made me sad, but dogs weren’t supposed to live long anyway, right? And I’m sure some celebrities died too, but they were OLD! People die when they’re old, it’s just the way life is supposed to go.
The first celebrity deaths that had any impact on me occurred on May 16th, 1990. I was twenty years old and watching television when the regularly scheduled programming was interrupted. I knew that Sammy Davis Jr., one of my father’s favourites, had been quite ill for some time, so I expected the news reporter to announce his passing. He did, but he also announced a shocker - Jim Henson. How could it be? How could two beloved personalities both be dead on the same day? It was inconceivable. But I shrugged it off the way that only a self-involved teen can (and let’s face it, at 20, I was a teenager in all ways except for the literal number) - I figured they were old and following the normal circle of life.
Over the years, there have been other celebrity deaths that affected me greatly - Michael Hutchence in ’97, Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett in 2009, and of course David Bowie and Alan Rickman this week, just to name a few. But as I advance in years, I’m realizing that my theory is not always correct - people don’t only die when they are old, it’s just that my concept of what is *old* is a little bit more accurate now that I’m an adult.
Back in my elementary school days, anyone who was out of high school was ancient. In Quebec, by the by, the average age of a high school graduate is 17. By the time I was of high school graduation age, I thought that life literally ended at 30. I couldn’t imagine anyone living, or at least living WELL beyond that age. I thought that if somehow you managed to live past 30, you’d certainly be in a home of some sort having to be carried to the bathroom and being fed all your meals because you were too feeble to do anything yourself.
Well. Obviously my views have matured since then. I know more about the world than what happens right around me, and I realize that “old” is much much older than I thought it was. It isn’t even the type of thing you can put a definite number on because it depends on the attitude of the person in question.
But no matter how you slice it, 18 is not old. Neither is 30. And, in my opinion, anyone under 80 is too young to die.
When I heard about Sammy and Henson’s deaths, I brushed it off to “old age”. But Sammy Davis Jr. was only 65, and Jim Henson was 54. Isn’t 65 retirement age? One is not supposed to die at the same time as they retire…
The friends and family I lost in 2014 were of varied ages - my dad was 75, my mother in law was 66, and 2 friends were only 47. And all of them were taken too soon. My grandmother passed away this past October aged 97 years and 3 days. Now THAT’s a life. I’m not saying that we were happy when she died, but we could all take comfort that she had lived a full life, and was ready to go. Not so in many of the other cases. Although we were somewhat prepared for the loss of my father and mother in law because they had been ill for so long, that wasn’t the case with our friends. Their deaths were a shock to everyone.
I kind of hope that I take after my mother’s side of the family - her mother passed at 97, and her grandmother passed at 100+ years of age, despite living in a third world country without proper medical care. But now I know there are no guarantees. I could live to a ripe old age, or I could get hit by a bus next week. I do know that, whenever it happens, it will leave a hole in the hearts of whoever I leave behind, just like I have holes for Daddy, Liz, Granny, Tanja, and Leigh. R.I.P.