First let me say that today was, for those who don't mind cold and raining, magnificent. The birds were skipping from tree to tree like flat rocks across a pond.That's the upbeat part of this post. Now let me makes some random observations about life. Or death, which is the same thing. It's like this. I make a joke of being the Old Woman with Walker. But the walker is not a joke. It's real. I use it because I can't walk across the room more than about three times without it. I work it for the astonishment and sympathy people afford me. I decorate like every day is fiesta. I use it to carry things; that's convenient. But on the whole, it sucks using a walker. But nobody wants to know that. Nobody wants to see that. I make them see the walker by making it a joke.
Likewise, nobody wants to hear that I'm at a place in life when I count the past by the time I may have left. Sure, I'm not old old. But I'm in, at best, the last quarter of my life. And I don't want to hear "You're only as old as you feel", because guess what, boys and girls, the Woman with Walker feels old. And I don't see any percentage in trying not to feel how I feel. I mean, I'm not gonna die of it. But I am gonna die. Yeah, yeah, I know. Everybody's gonna die sometime. But I'm gonna die sometime relatively soon. That scares me. It pisses me off. It intrigues me. So if there's anybody out there who feels that way, or wants to hear how that feels, I'd like to talk about it.
3 comments:
Yes, but do any of us really know when exactly we are going to die? I mean you say you're in the last quarter of your life, but are you really? You may get taken out tomorrow by a fast moving car while inching across the street in your slow moving walker. Or, the technology could be invented to give you an adamantium skeleton like Wolverine. Or they could put your brain in a brand new body. Enjoy as many days as you can. Seize the moment and all that crap. I know my mom isn't exactly a ray of sunshine when her back goes out and she is major cranky with massive pain. There are always good days and bad days. Mom suffers from depression and when it gets bad she says she wants to hide under the bed and not come out. But then she realizes there are MORE BOOKS TO BE READ! If she ever loses the ability to read, just shoot her. Mom thinks death is terrifying, but being unable to enjoy books is worse.
She could always listen to books if she couldn't read them.
You will not die alone and forgotten, y'know. You have friends who will be there for you and make sure you are protected and safe. My own fear is dying alone and feeble. Of course, with my luck, I'll slip on a pile of horse poo and break my neck. :)
Post a Comment