Serves me right for befriending an ailing 78 year old!
It has taken me two weeks to 'come to terms' with the fact that you are gone. I remember, quite vividly, sitting beside your deathbed and imagining this conversation clear as day but putting it to purpose has been harder. Had I done so the minute I got home as I originally intended, I should have felt selfish, finding it so easy to escape the loss in words but feeling it for too long would have meant a Eulogy. You always said that you loathed Eulogies. That they were nothing more than insipid details that people should have said to your face but didn't when you were alive, and only an all-pervasive notion of survivor's guilt made them utter them when one was gone.
I suppose I should be clear then that this 'is' in fact a Eulogy and I am in fact riddled with survivors guilt.
My grandparents have been telling me with much false bravado, that it is about time I began befriending people my own age rather than theirs, because I will lose many more that way. Perhaps they have a point but then I think to myself, you were not old. You were the youngest person I ever knew, old experiences, old pain...young spirit. I believe the romantics would call us kindred.
Do you know something, you looked happy lying there in your yellow room on that narrow bed. I suppose death is always a shock for everyone else, even if one has been dying of cancer for over a year. In retrospect, I do not think I can forgive you your cigarettes. I know you want me to, you reiterated time and again that if alcohol and nicotine had been lifelong companions, there was no point parting with them at the precipice. But it seems to me a colossal waste or perhaps this is just me being selfish. I would rather have you here and unhappy than otherwise and this does not bode well for my Zen aspirations but then you never really approved of my Zen aspirations.
It has taken me two weeks to 'come to terms' with the fact that you are gone. I remember, quite vividly, sitting beside your deathbed and imagining this conversation clear as day but putting it to purpose has been harder. Had I done so the minute I got home as I originally intended, I should have felt selfish, finding it so easy to escape the loss in words but feeling it for too long would have meant a Eulogy. You always said that you loathed Eulogies. That they were nothing more than insipid details that people should have said to your face but didn't when you were alive, and only an all-pervasive notion of survivor's guilt made them utter them when one was gone.
I suppose I should be clear then that this 'is' in fact a Eulogy and I am in fact riddled with survivors guilt.
My grandparents have been telling me with much false bravado, that it is about time I began befriending people my own age rather than theirs, because I will lose many more that way. Perhaps they have a point but then I think to myself, you were not old. You were the youngest person I ever knew, old experiences, old pain...young spirit. I believe the romantics would call us kindred.
Do you know something, you looked happy lying there in your yellow room on that narrow bed. I suppose death is always a shock for everyone else, even if one has been dying of cancer for over a year. In retrospect, I do not think I can forgive you your cigarettes. I know you want me to, you reiterated time and again that if alcohol and nicotine had been lifelong companions, there was no point parting with them at the precipice. But it seems to me a colossal waste or perhaps this is just me being selfish. I would rather have you here and unhappy than otherwise and this does not bode well for my Zen aspirations but then you never really approved of my Zen aspirations.
You always told me to conquer the world.
I remember telling you I never wanted to conquer it, only to observe it but we never seemed to agree on this point.
I know that you knew me. I seldom manage that with people, the acknowledgment that they can see who I am and usually when I do, I drop them instantly. You were the only one I was drawn to. I wonder why that is. Maybe it was the fact that you flattered me, told me I was smart. Maybe it was because you thought my dreams were beautiful too. Maybe it was because you used to take my hands and tell me my dreams would come true by seeing something in them. I never really believed in lifelines or life scapes before you. Maybe it was the fact that you never did this for anyone else and this made me feel special. Maybe it was the fact that you didn't patronise my desperate need to feel special.
Maybe it was just the fact that you listened and you never really needed to.
I recall our last conversation clearly. The one we both had while staring insipidly at your cooling corpse. You were wearing your legendary maroon sweater, infernal cigarette in hand and were a little too jovial for the too recently departed while I was focusing very hard on limiting my responses to the vicinity of my mind by not letting them appear on my face as most of my conversations are apt to do. It is an odd thing, but I always notice it. Why is it that only women can be found collectively crying around corpses? It is almost like they are the only ones forgiven for the offence of showing weakness in public, because it is expected of them.
"I'm sorry"
About what?! What on Earth could there be to feel sorry about now?
"I didn't come to see you"
Busy?
"No... lazy."
We are who we are, kid.
"Any idea who that is?"
Not really, but I'm finally looking forward to finding out.
"Are you really? I mean I know you said you were a little apprehensive. Is it what we thought it would be like?"
You mean a 'revelation'?
"Yes."
Well 'yes' and 'no'. I think I anticipate a revelation but I haven't come to it yet. Its a lot of processing.
"What about guilt and consequences and mistakes... any of that coming in to play yet?"
Not at this point but I'm sure it will.
"And that doesn't scare you anymore?"
I don't think it would matter either way. I have decided on one thing though...
....
I'm quite sure there were no mistakes.
"So your leaning towards the 'no regrets' thing? I guess that's encouraging."
Yeah.
"Am I on track? I mean even with my beaten path on this whole thing, am I wrong?"
Why the self doubt all of a sudden?
"Well I think its called for, don't you?"
No. I don't think there is a wrong. Especially not with right intentions and I think the key may just be blind belief in your beaten path or at least in mine.
"I hate the term 'blind' belief."
I know. But that's what it needs to be.
"And you're sure about this?"
This I am sure about. Whatever the belief, it needs to be blind.
"You know I cant pray for you like this, right?"
I thought we were praying.
I remember telling you I never wanted to conquer it, only to observe it but we never seemed to agree on this point.
I know that you knew me. I seldom manage that with people, the acknowledgment that they can see who I am and usually when I do, I drop them instantly. You were the only one I was drawn to. I wonder why that is. Maybe it was the fact that you flattered me, told me I was smart. Maybe it was because you thought my dreams were beautiful too. Maybe it was because you used to take my hands and tell me my dreams would come true by seeing something in them. I never really believed in lifelines or life scapes before you. Maybe it was the fact that you never did this for anyone else and this made me feel special. Maybe it was the fact that you didn't patronise my desperate need to feel special.
Maybe it was just the fact that you listened and you never really needed to.
I recall our last conversation clearly. The one we both had while staring insipidly at your cooling corpse. You were wearing your legendary maroon sweater, infernal cigarette in hand and were a little too jovial for the too recently departed while I was focusing very hard on limiting my responses to the vicinity of my mind by not letting them appear on my face as most of my conversations are apt to do. It is an odd thing, but I always notice it. Why is it that only women can be found collectively crying around corpses? It is almost like they are the only ones forgiven for the offence of showing weakness in public, because it is expected of them.
"I'm sorry"
About what?! What on Earth could there be to feel sorry about now?
"I didn't come to see you"
Busy?
"No... lazy."
We are who we are, kid.
"Any idea who that is?"
Not really, but I'm finally looking forward to finding out.
"Are you really? I mean I know you said you were a little apprehensive. Is it what we thought it would be like?"
You mean a 'revelation'?
"Yes."
Well 'yes' and 'no'. I think I anticipate a revelation but I haven't come to it yet. Its a lot of processing.
"What about guilt and consequences and mistakes... any of that coming in to play yet?"
Not at this point but I'm sure it will.
"And that doesn't scare you anymore?"
I don't think it would matter either way. I have decided on one thing though...
....
I'm quite sure there were no mistakes.
"So your leaning towards the 'no regrets' thing? I guess that's encouraging."
Yeah.
"Am I on track? I mean even with my beaten path on this whole thing, am I wrong?"
Why the self doubt all of a sudden?
"Well I think its called for, don't you?"
No. I don't think there is a wrong. Especially not with right intentions and I think the key may just be blind belief in your beaten path or at least in mine.
"I hate the term 'blind' belief."
I know. But that's what it needs to be.
"And you're sure about this?"
This I am sure about. Whatever the belief, it needs to be blind.
"You know I cant pray for you like this, right?"
I thought we were praying.
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