Death is something that surrounds us, something we will never be able to escape. Every day we pass death by and often we are unphased by it....dead animals in the street (mmm, yummy roadkill), passing by a funeral procession on a road (showing not an ounce of respect), murders and drownings on the news, etc., etc. We accept this as everyday life, as it is, yet, most still fear their own death. Riddle me that one, Batman.
People die. Many of us don't know how we will meet our maker, but eventually we all do. Someone could be given a death sentance by cancer, yet die the next day in a car wreck. You just never know how or when for sure your day will come, even if you do try to take control of it yourself. You are never 100% what you do to yourself will definitely bring an end to it all.
Last night, a friend of mine, Lane, was driving me home. When we were passing through the stoplight before my house we saw all the cars on the road pulling to the shoulders. Lane said, "Look, I think that is a body on the road." I didn't think it looked like that, but wasn't sure either...without my glasses it looked like something in a white trash bag. Unfortunately, where we came to rest in all the chaos was right next to a very still pale body laying on the ground. Lifeless. People were running around unsure what to do. One man tried to find a pulse without moving the body but never found a thing. When the police showed up moments later, a few people jumped in there cars and took off, couldn't be bothered by the lifeless body, or maybe running from the cops. The man that had earlier checked the pulse of the body started running after the one vehicle shouting and throwing his hands in the air. I have a feeling that vehicle was involved somehow. The sad part was the truck behind us anxiously honking their horn at both the police and those in front of them trying to get around everyone. I love the respect of modern man, can't even be bothered by a dead body in the road, wants to rush on by, like a human is equivalent to a wild rodent, another piece of roadkill.
Back at my house, Lane's last words of the evening were, "Man, I can't believe we saw a dead body tonight." It was kind of a haunting and frightening reality that we both had to sleep with. The last thought in my head last night was the victim and two tennis shoes in the middle of the highway.
Side note: Lane is driving back home on his 3-4 hour journey as I type. I hope his travels are safe. God Speed, dear friend.
Most people never have to experience the phenomena of finding someone dead or seeing someone die. Seeing a dead person in a casket is not much better sometimes, but our heads, from a very young age, are programmed to view a body in a casket as a thing of peace, a final goodbye. I, unfortunately, have experienced death multiple times.
I was the tender age of 6 when I first remember experiencing death. I recall seeing my Grandpa laying in a hospital bed with my aunts and uncles gathered around him. I was standing in the doorway of the hospital room peering in. Everyone was touching him with tears in their eyes. It is a very vivid image in my head. Even more so, sitting in the lounge at Gerber chapel and my parents telling me to stay there while they went into Grandpa's wake to say goodbye to Gramps. Being only 6, I thought that he was going to wake up one last time and say goodbye to everyone. I was confused, sad, and hurt that I couldn't see him wake up and say goodbye. To make things worse, I was sent to Grams' house with Grandma E during the services...left out of the final chance to put Grandpa to rest. I loved my Grandpa. I just wish I could've kept him around longer. I need more memories.
lightning crashes, an old mother dies
her intentions fall to the floor
the angel closes her eyes
the confusion that was hers
belongs now, to the baby down the hall
August 1994, Aunt Marie for the first time ever was not at my dance class. She told me in November 1982 that she would always be at dance class for me (when I was a scared little tot who's mother couldn't always stay because she was pregnant with my baby sister). Aunt Marie's great nieces quit dancing some time in the 80s, but she still kept coming to dance class, not only for me, but for all of us scared little tots and all of us that she supported as we learned discipline and dance.
I had to leave dance class to go and check on her. All of us were worried. I was 17 and went alone. Her car was in her garage and she was not answering her apartment door when I knocked endlessly. The lady across the hall came out and said her bathtub had been running over 24 hours and when she called the super he checked for plumbing leaks in the basement and then left, never checking on the source of the running water. I called 911 and the paramedics broke out the front window of the apartment to get into her. Then, they had to throw themselves into the bathroom door and then finally the firemen arrived and broke it down. They held me still at the doorway, holding me up, not saying a word. The way they embraced me said it all. I sat there 20 minutes until someone else I knew arrived. Alone on the front walk of the building, knowing I lost one of the greatest, most giving and supportive people in my life, I only let out a couple of tears...until I went home to my parents and explained the days events. I cried a little with them, then balled my eyes out when I was alone that night.
On Friday the 13th, October 1995, I saw a drunk driver lose control at the intersection I was crossing and hit another car and a wall. The passenger got thrown out of the car into a gas pump to his death. I believe there were other deaths, but I only remember the one. I, also, remember the deaths were more of a side note in the news instead of the main story. There was no respect or rememberence. The stories were all about the drunk driver and his history. Hmm, I just love the news.
I could go on and on, but in the end...numbness; death is our every day life.
And then I see my Pink Elephants.
