I just finished watching the finale of SFU and wow. The whole episode was a standard episode, but the last 5 minutes. Good Lord. I cried so hard I have a headache. I realize that everyone has to go. This world is transient. And everything in it. But the worst parts of leaving are 1) the unpredictability of it and 2) the inability to reach beyond it. So far, most of the deaths in my life have been pretty predictable. They were old. They were sick. It was almost expected. Makes me think of that poem “Old Men” by Ogden Nash:
People expect old men to die,
They do not really mourn old men.
Old men are different. People look
At them with eyes that wonder when…
People watch with unshocked eyes;
But the old men know when an old man dies.
But what of the young deaths I’ve experienced? Bomani. Mishia. Deborah. People whose names I’ve had to delete from my address book because they’re gone now and left no forwarding information. I hate to dwell in “what ifs” or “should’ves” and “could’ves” and death makes me do that most. “I should’ve talked with her more” “I wish I would have spent more time with them” “I should’ve told him how I felt about him.” I wonder if their deaths have made me any more proactive with the people in my life now. I try to tell people that I love that I do. And a lot of times… I get a cock eyed look. It’s not a word we’re supposed to throw around. But when we don’t… we feel bad if we couldn’t while we could. So… I deal with the pregnant silences on the other end of the phone line and the, “Um.. uh… okay Vic… that’s nice…” But… at least they know how I feel.
I might have needed a good cry. Thought I had one this year already *wink*.
I guess I’ll go get focused on the hamster wheel that occupies us till we can’t run anymore.