Speaking of Death...

March, 1999


our frend scott is talking about his dying father and i can't think of a way not to pollute the atmosphere. i can't think of a place to talk about death. the proper thing to do seems to be to start a thread entitled 'death'. but where to put it? and so i'm here in this weird little corner writing something i'm not sure about saying or sharing or thinking.

but death...

i drove my wife to the airport this evening and by now she must be 1/3 way to paris. i'm at home with our three preschoolers. on the way to LAX i stuck in an old
tape i recorded before i left los angeles about 7 years ago. the beats came through and the piece was 'dont be a fool'. i reminisced about how much i once loved that
song, and now the lyrics seem so simplistic - even silly as they were so upbeat. it was the group 'loose ends', brit pioneers with reggae and hiphop over positive
messages and lovesong lyrics that cut the tune back in the day...

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/eras/B000002ODV001001/002-2106112-3870807

and so the lyrics went

"you've got to tell yourself
try and you will progress
there's more to life than you know

don't give up the fight
take one day at a time
you've just got to have hope

so, don't be a fool
don't throw your life away
don't be a fool
don't waste your life away..."

i recall the phone calls coming in after the sudden death of my brother robert. he was only twenty something. it doesn't seem right fixing the number or the date. it
simply wasn't his time to die. and yet it was, and so the phone calls kept coming. people were offering their every heartfelt condolence and placing themselves at our
beck and call. it occured to me that i didn't know what my beck was, i never had a need to define it. death gave me a reason to think about what people mean to
each other at defining moments. it wasn't a gift i was interested in receiving. who wants to be taught by a crisis? who wants to be anything but unconfused when all
you can ask is why? why? why?

you know what you think you are supposed to be as you step in and out of uncontrollable moments but what are you? the round robin of emotional devastation and
superhuman generosity and courage whipsaws you until you are exhausted. you don't know who you are any longer, you're just tired of being dominated by these
thoughts and feelings. but you cannot help it, and somehow you know you shouldn't. and then you stare at the ceiling one day in bed wondering if it really makes any
sense at all to bear your burden, your inexplicable burden to carry forward the meaning of a lost one's life in a world determined to move on, obliviously. you go to
the park and stare at children in swings. you sit in the bakery and watch people chew donuts. you stare in the mirror and wonder if he really knew how much you
loved him. you pick up litter in other people's yards. you hear simple lyrics in simpleminded songs suddenly send deep and poignant shudders rumbling through your
soul and you collapse into a shameless heap realizing you were once part of the oblivious world.

once you held loved ones in your arms. and now they are gone. your arms don't only feel empty, they feel useless. what good are arms anymore? life eventually
teaches them new things after death has squeezed all the meaning out of them.

tonight, between keystrokes and sobs, i have children to shush and put to bed. a million miles ago yesterday, the day my brother died, i would have never imagined
him reborn except in the most futile and rediculous hope. but today i have another story, and another sad memory and another piece of myself to share from the
lessons and gifts of death and life. tonight that will mean an extra special capital letter acRoss the ether and extra special squeeze goodnight. so now my arms can rest
- they are certainly not throwing life away.