Sunday, August 19, 2012

after after

So. I talk a lot about death and what I think it might be or what I'm afraid it might be and what I hope it might be. But I'll be very honest. As much as I hope I'm wrong. I think that when we die that's it. Game over. And believe me when I say I wish it weren't so but I have this awful suspicion that as much as I wish there was an afterlife there isn't.

So, if that's true (even if I hate the thought of it), it means that we've got just this one chance, one life, to make good. Do everything we can to be remembered well, have some fun, make friends we'll never forget and love someone other than ourselves more than anything.

And as much as I hope this isn't the only chance I get I can honestly say that I am trying to be remembered well (through my writing), doing my best to have some fun (thank you skyrim), and there are a few people in my life I love more than anything.

So. How about you?

Sunday, August 5, 2012

I know now what ruined it for me

You know how when we're small we're blissfully ignorant of death, never guessing that there's end to this thing we know of as life. Even the death of our pets at a young age is often no more than a passing sadness - remember Poltergeist when the little girl's bird died and how as soon as it was buried her sadness was gone and she wanted a goldfish? It never occurs to us that one day it might be our body buried, our life ended abruptly and, perhaps, tragically. Most times we don't realize this until we're older, much older.

For me the realization came when I was around twelve or thirteen. I was standing at the end of my driveway, waiting for the bus, and I went to get the paper out of the mailbox like I always did, to read the headlines. And there on the front page was the most horrifying story I'd ever read. A young girl, 14, was found murdered, her head chopped away from her body and buried under a rock. It was at that moment I realized that death could come for me, too. And not when I was 90 and old and had lived a full life. It could come and snatch me - or anyone I loved - at any moment. Worse yet, it could be a horrifying death, not at all peaceful, not surrounded by those who loved you in life but possibly by someone who saw you only as a means to slake their own sick desires. It didn't matter how old you were, how cute you were, or even how good you were. There were no exemptions from death and no guarantee for the kind you hoped for. It was a crapshoot.

So, when did you find out the awful truth?