August 15, 2011
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On death and dying…or just dying, really.
They always say that it is the people that have nothing to lose that you should fear the most. But is it also true that those with everything to lose are doomed to fear the most?
After the requisite mourning period I went through after my dad passed away from cancer, I turned into a metaphysical snob of sorts, turning up my nose to those who would dare assume they knew what I was going through while giving advice to others experiencing loss with the swagger of a cocksure patrician of pathos.
And now? I still find myself enshrouded in snobbery once in a while. (Can’t help it when you think you are smarter than some of the people you encounter. Just being honest.) But while my head is in the clouds, my feet are ever so shifting in an attempt to stay upright. Married to a wonderful woman, enjoying a new job, living in a new home and being blessed with a dog who goes potty 99% of the time on the “dongg” pads, one would think that I should be settled and getting metaphorically fat. But instead I find my soul eviscerated that multiple relatives in the generation above me have been diagnosed with cancer in the past year and I find myself more in tune with my own mortality.
It is easy to give advice to others about loss, but what about dealing with the inevitable demise of yourself? For a while now I have been afflicted with the nagging thought that maybe I am wrong. Maybe God doesn’t exist, maybe I will not be able to see my dad again and maybe this is the best that it will ever be, it being that next month I will be reaching half the age that every single male in my family did not live past. It is not so much an existential crisis as it is the simple realization that the person who first placed sand in an hourglass could not have been more correct.
My wife is in Korea right now, spending time with her parents after the sudden passing of her grandma and I find myself lying awake at night, willing myself to stay awake because I am afraid that I will not wake up in the morning and my beloved dog would starve to death, if a broken heart does not get her first. Then my poor wife would return to America, waiting at the SFO baggage claim for a man who will never come.
I have been lollygagging for years despite the promise to myself that I would do some serious writing. I do not have any delusions of Oprah Book Club grandeur. I know that all my toils and trouble will still result in only a self-published vanity press and anonymity outside my home, but where I was thinking of writing just for fun before, I now have a real reason to.
Whether or not I will see my dad again I do not know, but I want something to pass down to the generations that follow so they can know who he was. So they can know that he was here. So they can know that I was here.
And in the end, that is the only way to live forever here on this earth.
Comments (10)
Death is such a difficult subject. I leave comments every now and then that begin with “My condolences…” and I almost cringe at the words myself. I don’t know how they feel. I’ve been through it, yes. But no one knows the extent to which others feel. There was a time in my life after a good friend of mine passed that I’d tell everyone who understood how I felt off.
As for…my own death…I worry about that too. There was this one night a few months ago that I felt this intense pain near the midsternal line and no one was home. I refused to sleep because I was afraid I’d never wake up. The day before that I’d already gotten it checked out at the doctors and they said I was all right. So I didn’t call anyone because I didn’t want them to worry. But I sat there all night, afraid of what might happen.
As for…seeing those who have passed again…I really hope I do. That’s all I can say about that.
I do miss your posts though. You ought to blog more!
@misajour - I’m going to try! (And your site is empty now! I should log on more often to catch up with peeps.)
i think we all try to leave a mark, a little something of ourselves in the world.
we love franksabunch! blog more plz
I’m so very sorry for your loss. I hope the pain gets better with time. But to be honest, I don’t think the pain will ever completely go away. But that’s just an artifact of how strong your love was. It wouldn’t hurt so much if you didn’t care.
Once you see yourself as a dead person in your sleep, you realize that you dwell too much on this thought. Keep up your own health and stay positive. Negative thoughts is like somatization can really make it harder to stay healthy. Doesn’t everyone who pray & believe just accept it and get through it somehow?
A good read…thanks for posting. I enjoyed what I’ve read. I hope to stop by more often!
I think writing a book is a novel (har har) idea. I’ve always admired your style of writing and was kind of wondering where you’d disappeared to. I am saddened to hear about your father’s passing, and your wife’s grandma’s death as well. Death of a loved one really does bring out the morbid thoughts, doesn’t it? Try not to let it consume you and keep on being positive. Oh, and get that book out.
i feel ya…i really do.
every religion and every culture recognizes death a little differently…but i think those that love you would like to know that you celebrate their life and their passing