i think he'd concur...
gandhi. mother teresa. janes dean. marilyn monroe. janis
joplin. jimmy cagney. j.f.k. martin luther king jnr. bob marley. samuel
beckett. john lennon. pearse, connolly and mac diarmuid. jimi hendrix. both of
my grandfathers. i could list loads more but i’ll stop here and ask you what
all these folks have in common. if you said they’re all great, brilliant,
bitchin’ people who all made a tremendous mark on modern society, you’re right.
if you said they’re all dead, you’re also right, and as that was the answer i
was looking for, you get a gold star. you see, my point in making that list is
to show no matter how frickin’ powerful, rich, sexy, or loved you are, sooner
or later you’re gonna bite the dust. EVERYBODY dies, though most people would
rather not (and rather not even think about it) and as you go through your
life, every day one step closer to your demise, you get to watch everyone else
around you keel over. in your lifetime, you will likely see the deaths of your
parents, your grandparents, your plants, your older brothers and sisters, some
of your friends, countless actors and actresses, and at least 2 or 3 presidents
or prime ministers. your pets will all eventually die. your spouse or partner
might die. even your children might die. and there ain’t a goddamn thing you
can do about any of it except get into your best black suit, consume copious
amounts of alcohol, and cry like an infant. so why am i writing about this, you ask. why
am i even THINKING about it? frankly, i do not know. i don’t usually sit about
ruminating on mortality, but now that i am, i’ve come to the shocking
realisation that i really don’t like it. death is a destructive force that only
really serves one purpose...to take away your loved ones (and in the very worst
case, your SELF) with little or no notice. okay...so maybe it serves more than
that one purpose...among them controlling population size, but how many of us
really think about THAT whilst shouldering the coffin at our best mate’s
funeral mass? fact is, the overcrowding of the earth isn’t an issue that
directly touches our lives, but death IS, so it might be a bit selfish but
hardly irrational of us to think we’re suffering because of it but not reaping
any of it’s benefits. and honestly, if you claim to accept and embrace death
for the great, population-thinning wonder that it is, i believe you are either
a) mad as a fuckin’ hatter or b) a filthy, holier-than-thou liar. but that’s
just MY opinion. having said that anyway, let me proceed.
i don’t know WHY i’m so surprised to learn i
don’t much care for death. god knows i’ve never handled it all too well. as a
kid, it and all it’s corollaries were my main sources of amusement. hell, some
of my best early comedy work was done in the local cemetery and my
cousin-in-law’s funeral home (the first in the town, mind you...we’re ever so
modern ;)), leaping out of coffins, crypts, or even waiting open graves for the
sole purpose of scaring the bejaysis out of innocent passerby and partaking of
the sheer hilarity that went with it. later on, when i’d discovered the wonders
of fake blood and stage make-up, i entertained myself by convincing people i
was a full-fledged living dead lad, or at the very least, mortally wounded,
again just for the comic value of their reactions. disrespectful? yeah.
insensitive? sure. totally immature? most definitely. but as some famous
psychological-type bloke who’s no doubt dead himself by now probably once said,
it was my way of handling an issue that actually scared me more than it did my
"victims". i don’t do stuff like that anymore (well hardly ever) but death
still makes me do some pretty weird things. luckily for me, my family has
caught on and treats me accordingly. but i digress. okay. now that i’ve sufficiently depressed the
fuck outta myself and no doubt out of you as well, i’m gonna dash. i have this
overwhelming urge to ring my nanas... :)
for instance, my eldest sister and i have been the designated
reading-people at family funerals since the passing of my paternal grandfather
back when i was 10 - herself cos she’s a trained speaker and me
cos...well...honestly cos if i don’t have something to do i act in a most bizarre
and uncivilised manner. some might argue that i too am trained; was already
debating on the school’s team by the time my grandfather died; and seeing as
the rest of my family either suffers from paralysing stage fright or speak with
such godawful culchie accents even THEY can’t understand each other, i was the
only other logical choice, and i NEVER behave particularly civilised, but i’m
not stupid. i know why they pick me. and to be honest, i’m grateful, as so long
as i’m reading from the book of revelation, i’m not giggling like a fruitcake,
telling lame jokes, having an asthmatic attack (and mind you, i’m not even
asthmatic), or craving jammie dodgers. and i don’t like making an ass of myself
any more than they like watching me do so. but as that’s just the way i handle
grief, fear, and any other uncomfortable emotion (if there are any i’ve left
out) the only thing they can do is keep me as occupied as possible and hope for
the best.
what i’m trying to say is death is bad, and i
can’t emphasise that enough. i obviously think it is, my whole culture does
(and NONE of us handle it all too well...that’s why we’re always stocious at
wakes and beating the shit out of each other...takes the focus off the REAL
issue)...and the americans hate it so much they try not to talk about it or even
THINK about it at all. but really, people, why do you think everyone’s so
bloody terrified of grey hair and wrinkles? cos with them comes age, and with
age comes death. i mean, god knows i’m not of the age yet where i’m terribly
worried about these things myself, but it HAS crossed my mind when i look at my
grandmothers, 94 and 97 years of age. they’re positively ancient...been here
forever...great-grandmothers the both of them, and the elder of them about to
become a great-great-grandmother any day now. they’ve lived full, fantastic lives.
and the freaky, horrifying, hideous part is they’ve both said they’re ready to
die. now, okay. maybe you really do reach a point in your life when you’re
honestly that okay with it, but i have yet to get to that point, and while they
might be ready to head out into the wild blue yonder, selfish grandson over
here isn’t quite ready to let them go yet. the idea doesn’t really appeal to my
parents, either, and something tells me when the day finally comes to say
good-bye, the lot of us will STILL end up being caught unawares. ideally, i’d
like to have my nanas till I’M 97...but...well...life’s just not that kind. i guess
if i REALLY think about it, i’ve been lucky to have them THIS long.