Death Comes From the Heart
Death… the final frontier. A true Star Trekian would get the reference of what I just said but it really is the final frontier. No matter what you believe, the end of your life on this planet is transcendence beyond anything you’ve ever known.
A week and a half ago I saw death as a walking, cane using, face and emerged changed. Perspective is interesting and is about the only thing we have: we as people I mean. My perspective comes from how I act, view and interact with the world. It’s what I think as I process information from my environment. I tend to be an extreme pessimist. That’s my perspective. I expect the worst from people and sometimes get it. I reason that if I aim low my expectations are easily exceeded.
How does this have anything to do with death you ask? From my perspective, it has everything to do with it. Death must be experienced by every living thing on this planet. No matter how much you’ve prayed or fucked your neighbor’s wife you still gotta die. The Grim Reaper doesn’t shy away from people with billions of dollars more than the skid row wino begging for pennies on the street corner. Death is more pervasive than taxes. If that’s not something to ponder, I don’t know what is.
A week and a half ago I was in a suburb of Vancouver, Canada. I went with my family to see my father-in-law one last time in this life. He has lost a battle, if you can call it that, with cancer. Lymphoma is destroying his lymph system and other systems along the way. His liver throws a daily welcome party for cancer and threatens an inevitable shutdown. His legs are swollen to the point where he no longer walks. A wheelchair and a recliner became his pals and he just bought a large screen plasma television he’s coveted for quite some time to enjoy in his last weeks of life. That’s legacy for ya.
I looked at the man. Veins showed through under the skin on his head. The man I grew to know was no longer there. His voice was different. His spirit was that of a dieing man who suffered the disappointment of realizing that he can’t just party himself to death like he planned to a year ago after he was diagnosed.
Our final evening in the burb included a gourmet lobster dinner with fresh lobster shipped in from Halifax, Canada. It’s on the east coast of the country for all you geographically challenged folks out there. Quick tell me the capital of Ontario. Where is Ontario you ask? Look on a fucking map and while you’re there, make sure you know where Vancouver and Halifax are.
My sister-in-law came with her doctor husband and brought the little red beauties. She plopped them in the boiler and everyone ate up. The children were grumpy. The man of the hour couldn’t really eat much and it was time for us to go.
My wife, in her beauty, went to sit with her father. I looked on as she did that for the last time. I wish I could say that I was touched or moved by the scene but it really goes much beyond those simple terms. It changed me. I don’t feel different. I just am. My sister-in-law went to sit with my wife and they cried together with their father on the couch. I sat there with tears streaming down my cheeks and the man of the hour joined them. For a few minutes people were silent except for the muffled sobs emerging from my sister-in-law. Her doctor husband didn’t cry. He just looked down as if he wanted to act in a manner appropriate for the situation. This bedside manner obviously gained from spending many brutal hours in med school, served him well as he assumed a pose demur. My brother-in-law, my wife’s brother, couldn’t really look at anyone. He looked down and when he did look up he reminded me of a 40 year old little boy.
We soon left and began our drive to Seattle for our flight back. When we got to the border the customs officer asked us the purpose of our trip.
“To see her dieing father,” I said without looking at the man. That was the first time I ever got anything close to respect from a US customs officer. Maybe it was the first time I paid attention, but I noticed. He said he was sorry and then flagged us to go inside to take care of some issue, which was completely legitimate.
A half hour later we stopped in Bellingham at the natural food store and stocked up on sugar for the trip home. I wandered through the place in a daze. I didn’t really care what happened or what people thought. I’m pretty sure I scowled at a lesbian while she checked out the yogurt.
The trip back was sleepless. It sucked but managed to echo our mood. My child realized she would never see grandpa again that day.
I am now different than I was 2 weeks ago. I’m not completely sure how and I’m not sure if it’s important but I am. Some things don’t matter as much as they did. I’ve become more committed to things than I was before. It’s time for me to move on with life and be ready to face death when it comes. I have no wish for how I die other than I hope it’s not from cancer. Cancer is the most humiliating way someone can die. It’s awful. It’s like you are punished by constantly having to watch your wife brutally raped in front of you while you do nothing because you are too weak.
I’m different now. I plan to be ready when my time comes. Make sure you are ready too. It’s important. It’s something we all go through, so deal with it.
As always, thanks for reading to the end. I’ll try to not space my columns off anymore. Talk to you next week.
A week and a half ago I saw death as a walking, cane using, face and emerged changed. Perspective is interesting and is about the only thing we have: we as people I mean. My perspective comes from how I act, view and interact with the world. It’s what I think as I process information from my environment. I tend to be an extreme pessimist. That’s my perspective. I expect the worst from people and sometimes get it. I reason that if I aim low my expectations are easily exceeded.
How does this have anything to do with death you ask? From my perspective, it has everything to do with it. Death must be experienced by every living thing on this planet. No matter how much you’ve prayed or fucked your neighbor’s wife you still gotta die. The Grim Reaper doesn’t shy away from people with billions of dollars more than the skid row wino begging for pennies on the street corner. Death is more pervasive than taxes. If that’s not something to ponder, I don’t know what is.
A week and a half ago I was in a suburb of Vancouver, Canada. I went with my family to see my father-in-law one last time in this life. He has lost a battle, if you can call it that, with cancer. Lymphoma is destroying his lymph system and other systems along the way. His liver throws a daily welcome party for cancer and threatens an inevitable shutdown. His legs are swollen to the point where he no longer walks. A wheelchair and a recliner became his pals and he just bought a large screen plasma television he’s coveted for quite some time to enjoy in his last weeks of life. That’s legacy for ya.
I looked at the man. Veins showed through under the skin on his head. The man I grew to know was no longer there. His voice was different. His spirit was that of a dieing man who suffered the disappointment of realizing that he can’t just party himself to death like he planned to a year ago after he was diagnosed.
Our final evening in the burb included a gourmet lobster dinner with fresh lobster shipped in from Halifax, Canada. It’s on the east coast of the country for all you geographically challenged folks out there. Quick tell me the capital of Ontario. Where is Ontario you ask? Look on a fucking map and while you’re there, make sure you know where Vancouver and Halifax are.
My sister-in-law came with her doctor husband and brought the little red beauties. She plopped them in the boiler and everyone ate up. The children were grumpy. The man of the hour couldn’t really eat much and it was time for us to go.
My wife, in her beauty, went to sit with her father. I looked on as she did that for the last time. I wish I could say that I was touched or moved by the scene but it really goes much beyond those simple terms. It changed me. I don’t feel different. I just am. My sister-in-law went to sit with my wife and they cried together with their father on the couch. I sat there with tears streaming down my cheeks and the man of the hour joined them. For a few minutes people were silent except for the muffled sobs emerging from my sister-in-law. Her doctor husband didn’t cry. He just looked down as if he wanted to act in a manner appropriate for the situation. This bedside manner obviously gained from spending many brutal hours in med school, served him well as he assumed a pose demur. My brother-in-law, my wife’s brother, couldn’t really look at anyone. He looked down and when he did look up he reminded me of a 40 year old little boy.
We soon left and began our drive to Seattle for our flight back. When we got to the border the customs officer asked us the purpose of our trip.
“To see her dieing father,” I said without looking at the man. That was the first time I ever got anything close to respect from a US customs officer. Maybe it was the first time I paid attention, but I noticed. He said he was sorry and then flagged us to go inside to take care of some issue, which was completely legitimate.
A half hour later we stopped in Bellingham at the natural food store and stocked up on sugar for the trip home. I wandered through the place in a daze. I didn’t really care what happened or what people thought. I’m pretty sure I scowled at a lesbian while she checked out the yogurt.
The trip back was sleepless. It sucked but managed to echo our mood. My child realized she would never see grandpa again that day.
I am now different than I was 2 weeks ago. I’m not completely sure how and I’m not sure if it’s important but I am. Some things don’t matter as much as they did. I’ve become more committed to things than I was before. It’s time for me to move on with life and be ready to face death when it comes. I have no wish for how I die other than I hope it’s not from cancer. Cancer is the most humiliating way someone can die. It’s awful. It’s like you are punished by constantly having to watch your wife brutally raped in front of you while you do nothing because you are too weak.
I’m different now. I plan to be ready when my time comes. Make sure you are ready too. It’s important. It’s something we all go through, so deal with it.
As always, thanks for reading to the end. I’ll try to not space my columns off anymore. Talk to you next week.
posted by morrisson66 at 6:44 PM
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