Neutron
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I guess I'm somewhat morbid. I don't know. But over the last few years death has touched me quite often, so I think some about how I react to it. It's changed a lot over the years and maybe, the closer I get to it, the less I understand it, which to me is somewhat weird because as we get older we obtain wisdom. With wisdom usually comes understanding, although again, the older I get my view of wisdom changes. Perhaps it's not understanding at all, instead it's the ability to apply generic lessons to specific things, and accepting in some cases that life happens.
I guess I was lucky. I never lost a close relative as a child. My first brush with death in the "DEATH" definition was in 9th grade. We had a senior in our high school. His name was Randy. He was a friend of our family, a very easy going kid and quite the smart ass. He and I played on the same baseball team, and I sort of looked up to him in the same way younger guys hero worship the older and abler players on the team. I remember Randy having to play the outfield once. In a late inning game. He normally didn't play outfield, he was a pitcher. He took popcorn into the outfield and sat down. The coach was livid. A ball was hit, and by luck landed right where Randy was sitting, and of course he caught it. And never missed a bite of popcorn 🙂. Less than a year later Randy was kicked in the head playing backyard football. He continued the game, went home, told his parents he had a headache and he needed a nap. 30 minutes later he vomitted blood, asked his mother to take him to the hospital, fell asleep on the way there, and never woke up again. He ws in a coma about 6 weeks. His parents fighting for the right to make the horrible decision to end their sons breathing, to say his life is misleading. The Randy with the easy smile and biting wit that I knew had died when he fell asleep in that car. I didn't think much of death... I had the collective body of high school students to sort of dilute the grief. That along with the flexibility of youth made this blow bounce off, no bruises, no harm, no foul. Life went on.
5 years later my friend Mike, an athlete of uncommon ability, and maybe the nicest guys I ever knew was killed by a 67 year old drunk. Mike was riding to town to watch July 4th fireworks. The guy who killed him had a suspended license, had been in jail for DUI 5 times and in fact had been released on a family release plan just the day before so he could spend the holiday with his family. Again I was young. I cried mostly because I didn't understand how this could happen to a guy as indestructible as Mike. I still grieve for Mike, for the loss of potential, and for the great guy who was gonna kick the worlds ass. The world will never know how great Mike was, but I certain piece of it certainly does. Life went on.
When I was 27 my cousin Rex was driving home from a wedding rehearsal. The wedding was to be the next day. Rex was the best man. A big guy with a big block head, a loud voice, strong as an ox. A great sense of humor and like everyone in my family he felt the best joke was the one played on him. He had a degree in computer engineering even though he was never a great student. But he wanted that degree and worked his ass off because as he said "Key I ain't workin on no fuckin farm" I loved wrestling with Rex even though it was never one on one. Usually if I was wining one of the other cousins would jump in, if he was winning one of my brothers would jump in. By the end there'd be a big ball of 30 Ohio Polocks all grappling in my parents front yard. Rex was to be the best man in a dear friends wedding. On his way home from decorating the reception hall after rehearsal my cousin Rex was driving in a construction zone and hit a concrete pylon. It instantly broke his neck, and I'm hoping what the docs say is true, that he died instantly, at 25 years old. Just promoted in a new job. Making his way in the world. For the third time I saw parents having to live the ultimate horror, that being having a child die before them. Life has it's random events, some of them cruel, this being one of lifes crueler jokes. WE had the wedding the next day. Of course everyone looked shell shocked, no one looked happy, and there was a conspicuous empty spot where the best man should have been standing. When the bride kissed the groom I felt a horrible finality because it was the first time I realized, Rex should be there smiling for our friend. And he's not smiling that crooked grin, a grin that says I know a great joke and when you're on the brink of going crazy wanting to know the joke I'll tell ya. I kiss Rex, again a young guy, just on the brink of going past what potential we all thought he had. It felt different than Mikes death. Rex, through hard work and a hard head had actually achieved something. This wasn't a case of lost potential, this was a case of death stealing found potential. It hurt. Life went on.
I was in the Navy. In my branch we did some real dangerous stuff. I was a youngster. Mid 20s. Doing the most dangerous job in a dangerous place, along with 4 others. What I remember is going about it in the brazen way young guys do. Knowing in fact you're playing a game of cards with death, and hoping the deck isn't too stacked. A young man takes this with bravado, dash, derring do, usually with some smart John Wayne type joke. He has to. Because the real fear is if you let the underlying thought make it to the top then it might become the reality. It was only in the privacy of my "rack" after accomplishing a mission, that I'd get the shakes. It seemed ok because with the privacy curtain drawn no one could see me, so death couldn't see I wasn't as confident about whipping it's ass than I appeared to be. I lived through 4 of these missions. But at this point I believe I was only 1 up on death, if that.
October 6th 1995 I had the first death that changed my life. I had a sister, a person I greatly love. Note I say ove because I still love her. More than ever. Some of you have seen that old ratty Raiders jacket I wear constantly. That jacket was given to me by my sister, a week prior to her death. It was the last thing she ever gave me, I won't allow repairs because that would alter and somehow change what she'd given me. My sister was 9 years older than me and she was my only sister. She presided over 4 younger brothers, and I know I was her favorite because she told me so many times. My sister was maybe the smartest person I ever knew, and perhaps the biggest free spirit. She was a former runner up for Miss Ohio and had degrees in business, computer engineering, and psychology. For all her success she was married 6 times. The odd thing, except for one of those guys my brothers and I consider them close friends. My sisters number one rule, If my brothers don't like you, then you're out. It's from my sister I get my view of women. Unlike a lot of guys I didn;'t have to worry about dates in High School. Once I turned 17 my sister would set me up with her friends, women ranging from 23 to about 29 years old. All sweethearts, all very confident, all very in control. My sis used to say, Key, you don't date little girls, you're better than that. When I joined the Navy my sis would randomly show up at my duty stations, date virtually all my friends, party her ass off. Make me soup, then leave. When I was terribly injured in an accident she sold her business, flew to California and nursed me back to health. What I didn't know is she had lupus. Lupus was slowly killing her, even though the rest of my family didn't know it. I did because I didn't want her daughter to want for anything, so I paid for my sisters medical treatments and medicine.
Just prior to my sisters death we had fought. One of the few fights we ever had. She was unreliable. Many times I'd buy tickets for a concert, or a football game and she'd no show. She wanted to come up for a Lions game and I told her she'd have to buy a ticket because I was tired of getting stood up. She wasn't happy with me. Eventually I decided, I'm a dumbass, just buy the tickets, if she doesn't show up. Oh well it's part of being her brother and besides if I wanted the tickets she'd kill herself to get them for me. I bought the tickets, stopped to eat. Got home. The phone was ringing. My younger brother had to identify the body. She pulled out in front of a truck. The other person in the car wasn't even touched... I went home the next day. My brother was still trying to hold things together, and I could see in my parents the slow decline that would eventually lead to their deaths. My father never really dealt with it. My sis was his baby. My mother basically tried to treat it as though nothing had happened. Both had aged 10 years since I saw them the weak before. My father, a decorated marine at both Iwo Jima and Okinawa looked like a shrunken man. In effect October 6th caused 3 deaths. My parents were to die 5 and 6 years later, a year apart from each other. My mother slowly wasted away with cancer. my father, just died. Cause unknown. He laid down one afternoon and never woke up. I think I know the cause... His soul died in 1995 or at least the part that keeps the fire of life lit, the spark which makes each of us uniquely us. Once that goes, the body eventually goes to. There were 3100 people at my sisters funeral. In fact the church wouldn't hold that many so the majority stood outside. But unlike the death of Randy I couldn't draw support from the masses. Some unseen wall prevented it, though many tried to penetrate it and help me understand. This case was different because death had taken an open shot at my heart, and scored a direct hit. I picked her grave site. Underneath a great looking tree so in the fall the leaves can land on her. I gotta think she likes that because even though fall is when the world starts dying, that same world never looks more alive. And one thing I know my sis believed in was sometimes the illusions of life are as important as life itself. Maybe I believe that, I'm not sure. Life went on..
My parents died a year apart, but it was expected. Both had lived good lives. And both were proud of the children they raised. One spirited daughter and 4 strapping sons, all opinionated and indepenent to a fault. I do feel the emptiness one feels after the loss of a parent, or parents, but I was never one to turn for advice, I'd been raised to think, and make decisions, and I do believe it's the one gift my parents gave me that I appreciate most.
Last year, the first week of October death touched in yet another strange way. At one time I had a fiance'. Her name was Alana. She was 5 years younger than me. I met her when I was 22. She was a cheerleader and I was struck by her good looks, and later after we'd been introduced I was numbstruck by her intelligence and sense of self. One might say I was in love, but didn't even know it yet. That realization came much later. She was a gorgeous blonde, beautiful smile, and blue eyes that cold freeze your heart with love, then an instant later melt it with the fire of passion. It's odd, I slept with her hundreds of times, yet the most erotic moment of my life was the first time we made out on her parents couch, AND at that stage in my life I was hardly an innocent. Eventually we got engaged. She had a dream that I maybe held her back from at the same time I encouraged her to fulfill. This beautiful cheerleader wanted to be an engineer for NASA. I never laughed at her dream. I always felt she could do it, but strangely when I was with her he never made the attempt. I always felt maybe it was because I was such a good engineer that she felt if she went for it she'd never measure up to me. Whenever I'd ask she'd say Key, I'm note sure I'm smart enough. Like a fool, I broke things off with her, all the while loving her more and more every day. We'd inquire about each other through mutual friends, and when my sis died Alana made sure I knew if I needed her she'd be available, all the while knowing I wouldn't take her up on it. Later her brother told me the day of the funeral Alana stayed home from work, and cried all day because she knew what I was going through, and knew how much I love my sister. Until her death, she's ask relatives if I was ok. And generally kept track of me. I only wish now I had done the same for her. Of course 'd ask her brothers if she was doing ok. But I didn't follow her in the same way she did me. It's odd, I broke up with her because I had doubts she loved me, yet now, it seems crystal clear she had a lot more overt love for me than I did for her, even though inside I loved her desperately. But hindsight is always 20/20.
Over the years between our break up and her death I must have written her a thousand letters to try to tell her how I felt. Yet once the words were down on paper they never seemed to look as good as when they originated in my heart. So the letters were burned.
Last october my brother called and told me she had died. I guess she had finally gone back to college. She was getting her degree in Physics, and pending her passing her exams in December NASA was gonna hire her. She married, but her youngest brother told me he was never sure she loved the guy. Even at that I was so proud of her it wasn't even funny. She reached to fulfill a dream, and maybe she never reached the dream BUT damn she had a hand on it and that has to count for something. I've had relatives die, friends, but I found it surreal having a lover die. I've never had a lover die before, and the finality is shocking. I'll never write another letter, that'll eventually get burnt. I'll never get to think, I wonder what she's doing, and I'll never know just what she thought about me. But her finally reaching for what she wanted speaks volumes of how she finally came to view life. Take it, grasp it, wrestle it. She's the tornado I never caught.
I'm positive everyone here has similar experiences, and unwritten letters. Maybe (hopefully) ya'll might write one of those letters and actually send it. Yeah maybe the words don't look as good as the ones that were in the heart, but it doesn't matter really. They still came from your heart, and remember, that person who gets that letter doesn't know what the original draft said, they'll reverse edit it back to your heart.
I have a belief, or a rationalization. It's how I deal with death. No one knows what happens at the "moment" but I feel everyones life is represented by cards. The cards are arranged like a childrens game of fish, or 52 pickup. Haphazard, but with a certain oraganization that has a charm and logic of its own. Each card is an experience, a person, a triumph, a defeat. As we die they rapidly sort into two piles, one a good pile, one a bad. Hopefully when the sorting is done the good pile is larger than the bad. I've always wondered....
Where did my card lie?
Live Well
Tron
I guess I was lucky. I never lost a close relative as a child. My first brush with death in the "DEATH" definition was in 9th grade. We had a senior in our high school. His name was Randy. He was a friend of our family, a very easy going kid and quite the smart ass. He and I played on the same baseball team, and I sort of looked up to him in the same way younger guys hero worship the older and abler players on the team. I remember Randy having to play the outfield once. In a late inning game. He normally didn't play outfield, he was a pitcher. He took popcorn into the outfield and sat down. The coach was livid. A ball was hit, and by luck landed right where Randy was sitting, and of course he caught it. And never missed a bite of popcorn 🙂. Less than a year later Randy was kicked in the head playing backyard football. He continued the game, went home, told his parents he had a headache and he needed a nap. 30 minutes later he vomitted blood, asked his mother to take him to the hospital, fell asleep on the way there, and never woke up again. He ws in a coma about 6 weeks. His parents fighting for the right to make the horrible decision to end their sons breathing, to say his life is misleading. The Randy with the easy smile and biting wit that I knew had died when he fell asleep in that car. I didn't think much of death... I had the collective body of high school students to sort of dilute the grief. That along with the flexibility of youth made this blow bounce off, no bruises, no harm, no foul. Life went on.
5 years later my friend Mike, an athlete of uncommon ability, and maybe the nicest guys I ever knew was killed by a 67 year old drunk. Mike was riding to town to watch July 4th fireworks. The guy who killed him had a suspended license, had been in jail for DUI 5 times and in fact had been released on a family release plan just the day before so he could spend the holiday with his family. Again I was young. I cried mostly because I didn't understand how this could happen to a guy as indestructible as Mike. I still grieve for Mike, for the loss of potential, and for the great guy who was gonna kick the worlds ass. The world will never know how great Mike was, but I certain piece of it certainly does. Life went on.
When I was 27 my cousin Rex was driving home from a wedding rehearsal. The wedding was to be the next day. Rex was the best man. A big guy with a big block head, a loud voice, strong as an ox. A great sense of humor and like everyone in my family he felt the best joke was the one played on him. He had a degree in computer engineering even though he was never a great student. But he wanted that degree and worked his ass off because as he said "Key I ain't workin on no fuckin farm" I loved wrestling with Rex even though it was never one on one. Usually if I was wining one of the other cousins would jump in, if he was winning one of my brothers would jump in. By the end there'd be a big ball of 30 Ohio Polocks all grappling in my parents front yard. Rex was to be the best man in a dear friends wedding. On his way home from decorating the reception hall after rehearsal my cousin Rex was driving in a construction zone and hit a concrete pylon. It instantly broke his neck, and I'm hoping what the docs say is true, that he died instantly, at 25 years old. Just promoted in a new job. Making his way in the world. For the third time I saw parents having to live the ultimate horror, that being having a child die before them. Life has it's random events, some of them cruel, this being one of lifes crueler jokes. WE had the wedding the next day. Of course everyone looked shell shocked, no one looked happy, and there was a conspicuous empty spot where the best man should have been standing. When the bride kissed the groom I felt a horrible finality because it was the first time I realized, Rex should be there smiling for our friend. And he's not smiling that crooked grin, a grin that says I know a great joke and when you're on the brink of going crazy wanting to know the joke I'll tell ya. I kiss Rex, again a young guy, just on the brink of going past what potential we all thought he had. It felt different than Mikes death. Rex, through hard work and a hard head had actually achieved something. This wasn't a case of lost potential, this was a case of death stealing found potential. It hurt. Life went on.
I was in the Navy. In my branch we did some real dangerous stuff. I was a youngster. Mid 20s. Doing the most dangerous job in a dangerous place, along with 4 others. What I remember is going about it in the brazen way young guys do. Knowing in fact you're playing a game of cards with death, and hoping the deck isn't too stacked. A young man takes this with bravado, dash, derring do, usually with some smart John Wayne type joke. He has to. Because the real fear is if you let the underlying thought make it to the top then it might become the reality. It was only in the privacy of my "rack" after accomplishing a mission, that I'd get the shakes. It seemed ok because with the privacy curtain drawn no one could see me, so death couldn't see I wasn't as confident about whipping it's ass than I appeared to be. I lived through 4 of these missions. But at this point I believe I was only 1 up on death, if that.
October 6th 1995 I had the first death that changed my life. I had a sister, a person I greatly love. Note I say ove because I still love her. More than ever. Some of you have seen that old ratty Raiders jacket I wear constantly. That jacket was given to me by my sister, a week prior to her death. It was the last thing she ever gave me, I won't allow repairs because that would alter and somehow change what she'd given me. My sister was 9 years older than me and she was my only sister. She presided over 4 younger brothers, and I know I was her favorite because she told me so many times. My sister was maybe the smartest person I ever knew, and perhaps the biggest free spirit. She was a former runner up for Miss Ohio and had degrees in business, computer engineering, and psychology. For all her success she was married 6 times. The odd thing, except for one of those guys my brothers and I consider them close friends. My sisters number one rule, If my brothers don't like you, then you're out. It's from my sister I get my view of women. Unlike a lot of guys I didn;'t have to worry about dates in High School. Once I turned 17 my sister would set me up with her friends, women ranging from 23 to about 29 years old. All sweethearts, all very confident, all very in control. My sis used to say, Key, you don't date little girls, you're better than that. When I joined the Navy my sis would randomly show up at my duty stations, date virtually all my friends, party her ass off. Make me soup, then leave. When I was terribly injured in an accident she sold her business, flew to California and nursed me back to health. What I didn't know is she had lupus. Lupus was slowly killing her, even though the rest of my family didn't know it. I did because I didn't want her daughter to want for anything, so I paid for my sisters medical treatments and medicine.
Just prior to my sisters death we had fought. One of the few fights we ever had. She was unreliable. Many times I'd buy tickets for a concert, or a football game and she'd no show. She wanted to come up for a Lions game and I told her she'd have to buy a ticket because I was tired of getting stood up. She wasn't happy with me. Eventually I decided, I'm a dumbass, just buy the tickets, if she doesn't show up. Oh well it's part of being her brother and besides if I wanted the tickets she'd kill herself to get them for me. I bought the tickets, stopped to eat. Got home. The phone was ringing. My younger brother had to identify the body. She pulled out in front of a truck. The other person in the car wasn't even touched... I went home the next day. My brother was still trying to hold things together, and I could see in my parents the slow decline that would eventually lead to their deaths. My father never really dealt with it. My sis was his baby. My mother basically tried to treat it as though nothing had happened. Both had aged 10 years since I saw them the weak before. My father, a decorated marine at both Iwo Jima and Okinawa looked like a shrunken man. In effect October 6th caused 3 deaths. My parents were to die 5 and 6 years later, a year apart from each other. My mother slowly wasted away with cancer. my father, just died. Cause unknown. He laid down one afternoon and never woke up. I think I know the cause... His soul died in 1995 or at least the part that keeps the fire of life lit, the spark which makes each of us uniquely us. Once that goes, the body eventually goes to. There were 3100 people at my sisters funeral. In fact the church wouldn't hold that many so the majority stood outside. But unlike the death of Randy I couldn't draw support from the masses. Some unseen wall prevented it, though many tried to penetrate it and help me understand. This case was different because death had taken an open shot at my heart, and scored a direct hit. I picked her grave site. Underneath a great looking tree so in the fall the leaves can land on her. I gotta think she likes that because even though fall is when the world starts dying, that same world never looks more alive. And one thing I know my sis believed in was sometimes the illusions of life are as important as life itself. Maybe I believe that, I'm not sure. Life went on..
My parents died a year apart, but it was expected. Both had lived good lives. And both were proud of the children they raised. One spirited daughter and 4 strapping sons, all opinionated and indepenent to a fault. I do feel the emptiness one feels after the loss of a parent, or parents, but I was never one to turn for advice, I'd been raised to think, and make decisions, and I do believe it's the one gift my parents gave me that I appreciate most.
Last year, the first week of October death touched in yet another strange way. At one time I had a fiance'. Her name was Alana. She was 5 years younger than me. I met her when I was 22. She was a cheerleader and I was struck by her good looks, and later after we'd been introduced I was numbstruck by her intelligence and sense of self. One might say I was in love, but didn't even know it yet. That realization came much later. She was a gorgeous blonde, beautiful smile, and blue eyes that cold freeze your heart with love, then an instant later melt it with the fire of passion. It's odd, I slept with her hundreds of times, yet the most erotic moment of my life was the first time we made out on her parents couch, AND at that stage in my life I was hardly an innocent. Eventually we got engaged. She had a dream that I maybe held her back from at the same time I encouraged her to fulfill. This beautiful cheerleader wanted to be an engineer for NASA. I never laughed at her dream. I always felt she could do it, but strangely when I was with her he never made the attempt. I always felt maybe it was because I was such a good engineer that she felt if she went for it she'd never measure up to me. Whenever I'd ask she'd say Key, I'm note sure I'm smart enough. Like a fool, I broke things off with her, all the while loving her more and more every day. We'd inquire about each other through mutual friends, and when my sis died Alana made sure I knew if I needed her she'd be available, all the while knowing I wouldn't take her up on it. Later her brother told me the day of the funeral Alana stayed home from work, and cried all day because she knew what I was going through, and knew how much I love my sister. Until her death, she's ask relatives if I was ok. And generally kept track of me. I only wish now I had done the same for her. Of course 'd ask her brothers if she was doing ok. But I didn't follow her in the same way she did me. It's odd, I broke up with her because I had doubts she loved me, yet now, it seems crystal clear she had a lot more overt love for me than I did for her, even though inside I loved her desperately. But hindsight is always 20/20.
Over the years between our break up and her death I must have written her a thousand letters to try to tell her how I felt. Yet once the words were down on paper they never seemed to look as good as when they originated in my heart. So the letters were burned.
Last october my brother called and told me she had died. I guess she had finally gone back to college. She was getting her degree in Physics, and pending her passing her exams in December NASA was gonna hire her. She married, but her youngest brother told me he was never sure she loved the guy. Even at that I was so proud of her it wasn't even funny. She reached to fulfill a dream, and maybe she never reached the dream BUT damn she had a hand on it and that has to count for something. I've had relatives die, friends, but I found it surreal having a lover die. I've never had a lover die before, and the finality is shocking. I'll never write another letter, that'll eventually get burnt. I'll never get to think, I wonder what she's doing, and I'll never know just what she thought about me. But her finally reaching for what she wanted speaks volumes of how she finally came to view life. Take it, grasp it, wrestle it. She's the tornado I never caught.
I'm positive everyone here has similar experiences, and unwritten letters. Maybe (hopefully) ya'll might write one of those letters and actually send it. Yeah maybe the words don't look as good as the ones that were in the heart, but it doesn't matter really. They still came from your heart, and remember, that person who gets that letter doesn't know what the original draft said, they'll reverse edit it back to your heart.
I have a belief, or a rationalization. It's how I deal with death. No one knows what happens at the "moment" but I feel everyones life is represented by cards. The cards are arranged like a childrens game of fish, or 52 pickup. Haphazard, but with a certain oraganization that has a charm and logic of its own. Each card is an experience, a person, a triumph, a defeat. As we die they rapidly sort into two piles, one a good pile, one a bad. Hopefully when the sorting is done the good pile is larger than the bad. I've always wondered....
Where did my card lie?
Live Well
Tron
