the_matt79

Mortality...

Heavy topic I know, but one that has been kicking around in my brain for a bit now, and now is the time for me to put it down on paper, or this mechanical equivalent rather.

Of course with a subject like this, one must find the correct music to have playing in the background. I chose George Harrison's posthumous greatest hits album Let it Roll, because it's awesome, and it's apropos.

So, what made me think of mortality? Recently we had a co-worker die somewhat unexpectedly. He wasn't of the best health, but yet we didn't think he was knocking on death's doorstep either. Many of my co-workers are convinced that the stress work put on him, our supervisor's had been on a rules violation hunt with him, that pushed him over the edge. While I don't think they are exactly right about that, I would argue that it played a hand in it for sure. Arnie, the deceased, graduated high school with my parents.

A couple days later a 64 year old male passed away in town. Dad will be 60 in 13 days...

Since I have moved home I have seen three co-workers pass away from various forms of cancer. Two of these men went to school with my folks and the third was slightly younger.

Last week another co-worker in his later 40s had a heart attack and had to have surgery to aid his problems, I believe they said three stints but it might have been shunts.

These things swirl around in my head and I think of mortality.

When I was a child I lost my Grandma Doris pretty early on, I was 5 and she was 71. She had obviously lived a rather full and long life, but this is my first memory of death in the family, the first memory of trying to avoid funerals, the first memory of a loved one in a box. Now, at this age I did not fully grasp what was going on around me, but you pick up on emotions and reactions of others, and then you realize that, that person is no longer there.

In the 28 years since then, I have lost two other grandparents, some great aunts and uncles, heroes, pets, and friends, and along the way, the idea of mortality comes into your vocabulary, and the definition settles into your lexicon. My understanding of the word has evolved with me, shaped by discussions, by novels, by poems, by movies, by comic books as well. Death is a turning point for characters, and it is a turning point in life.

For me it started out with the fear of dying myself. I think this is understandable because early on in life we have a concept of self and we are getting to grips with how that fits into the world around us, so of course we fear the ending of I. Eventually we learn more about compassion, about empathy, about others, and then we begin to fear the loss of those we love just as much as we fear the loss of ourselves.

As my fear shifted, I began to realize more about the world around me, began to notice the loss of others more than I had. When I moved back home part way through grad school I thought maybe there were so many cancer diagnosis' because we are a small town and your odds of getting it are more evident in that type of setting. Now, that might just be because in a small town we know everyone and so the sufferers of cancer are known which makes it seem that more prevalent, when it probably really isn't.

I do have to commend my community for coming together for those that are diagnosed. The benefit suppers, the raffles, and the helping hands offered are rather inspiring. This inspiration lets one see the humanity that resides in mortality, the compassion that can be there to ease the minds of those dealing with it directly. This side of mortality will always make me smile and appreciate this crazy thing called life.

Currently my fears involved with mortality have shifted to losing my parents. Neither my mom nor my dad are in poor health, they are overweight, but they are more or less healthy. Seeing people their age pass away makes you look at that though. These people that have towered over you your whole life, first physically and then mentally, are suddenly people that won't be there forever. Helping your dad make sausage in the garage, and discussing the recently passed can cause him to utter the statement "I hope to hell I live a lot longer than that". I instantly knew and understood what he was saying, but it is mildly disconcerting to hear your dad say something like that.

I am at a point where I need to leave this town again, get out into the world and see what it has to offer me, but part of me doesn't want to leave because these are times I can spend with my parents, times when everything is still good, times when I can show my dad my Grad School transcript and hear him say that he is proud of me (he's not a vocal man so that was awesome to hear the other night).

I am selfish in wanting to stay here for those reasons though. I think it is selfish because I am only doing it for me, but in the long run it holds me back, and it might even hold them back. It is also selfish because they want me to live a full life, and perhaps I am limiting myself from this because I want to be around them now, in case I can't be later. Yes, even selfishness resides in mortality, but who knew it could do so in a way other than hoping for more time for yourself or a loved one.

Mortality is a big thing, encompassing so much, meaning so much, and yet it can be quickly snuffed out without anyone even realizing what happened. Perhaps that is why I have let it kick around in my head for a week before I wrote this, and perhaps I haven't even discussed what all I thought of during this time, but the beauty of mortality is rather simple. As long as you're alive and kicking, as long as you're moving forward, as long as you can find that ounce of good in the pound of fear, mortality isn't such a bad thing. It isn't a bad thing, because without mortality we don't have life, without life we don't have experience, and without experience we are empty.

Mortality is looked at as a symbol of an end, but it is also a symbol of an existence, embrace that my friends.