what you expect becomes the unexpected
Sometimes I wonder if the only deaths worth remembering are the ones that are unexpected. It seems like the ones that catch the news are the ones that no one saw coming. The first time I noticed it was in the late 90's when Princess Diana crashed. There was so much press, it made my head spin. In the last year or so I've been reminded of it with Heath and Michael Jackson. But then I think of the expected deaths of Mother Teresa and Farah Fawcett. Deaths that seem to barely flit across the radar. Not that their lives and deaths didn't matter, but they weren't sudden. Old age and chronic cancer, is that a deeper tragedy than overdoses and heart attacks? I don't know if you can measure death, but sometimes I feel like society shapes it in a way that tells us that we can.
Then, I remember when my grandpa died. A few days before he died, I saw him in a hospital bed in his living room, barely breathing, his eyes and skin fading...but when the phone rang I was shocked. He had cancer for years, it became commonplace to think of him with his disease. Georgecancer. Not George has cancer. It became a fact, not a condition. After a while, everyone stopped whispering about it, it was just part of his life. Death was never in the equation. Even in the last months when he was sick with it because he had had bouts of sickness for years. I never really believed it'd end the way it began. Maybe death is never expected, no matter how prepared you think you are. Maybe it's always a shock, in some way. Or maybe there's only a small segment of people who experience that. I don't know...all I know is how I've felt about it every time its crossed my life. And I snort at my use of it, like death is inanimate or living, as ridiculous as that is. His life wasn't insignificant and neither was his d
Maybe unexpected deaths in the media seem more tragic because we're outside it. It's their lives, their loved ones. We can only miss an image of who we believe they were, not who they actually were. Maybe it's a coping mechanism, an escape, or maybe the desire to know the meaning of life burns bright. Probabilities come into play when you're trying to beat the ticking clock. If we can figure out the cause, we can prevent death from smacking us in the face out of nowhere. Those are only a few thoughts...there are a hundred more I could write but I'll refrain. My fingers and brain are cramped.
I hate to be so morbid, but it's hard not to think about death when I face the possibility of it everyday. Taking care of my elderly grandparents is wearing on me. My soul is tired. I just want to sleep, from the inside out.
Then, I remember when my grandpa died. A few days before he died, I saw him in a hospital bed in his living room, barely breathing, his eyes and skin fading...but when the phone rang I was shocked. He had cancer for years, it became commonplace to think of him with his disease. Georgecancer. Not George has cancer. It became a fact, not a condition. After a while, everyone stopped whispering about it, it was just part of his life. Death was never in the equation. Even in the last months when he was sick with it because he had had bouts of sickness for years. I never really believed it'd end the way it began. Maybe death is never expected, no matter how prepared you think you are. Maybe it's always a shock, in some way. Or maybe there's only a small segment of people who experience that. I don't know...all I know is how I've felt about it every time its crossed my life. And I snort at my use of it, like death is inanimate or living, as ridiculous as that is. His life wasn't insignificant and neither was his d
Maybe unexpected deaths in the media seem more tragic because we're outside it. It's their lives, their loved ones. We can only miss an image of who we believe they were, not who they actually were. Maybe it's a coping mechanism, an escape, or maybe the desire to know the meaning of life burns bright. Probabilities come into play when you're trying to beat the ticking clock. If we can figure out the cause, we can prevent death from smacking us in the face out of nowhere. Those are only a few thoughts...there are a hundred more I could write but I'll refrain. My fingers and brain are cramped.
I hate to be so morbid, but it's hard not to think about death when I face the possibility of it everyday. Taking care of my elderly grandparents is wearing on me. My soul is tired. I just want to sleep, from the inside out.