About Death....

Just last Sunday, a friend of mine had a bad dream- something about himself dying. Asked if we ever have that fear of death creeping up at us. And yesterday, a good friend of mine's dad passed away. The thing about death is that my fear is not so much of myself dying...it is really the fear of my loved one dying, how I would cope and get over it. Perhaps that is why some people don't really let themselves fully love someone, or too many people. Just the thought of being heart broken time and again when someone dies is just too depressing. The thought of someone not 'being' anymore, not being able to go through phases of your lives with that someone. Perhaps that is also why I don't believe in farewells. Even when one dies, the memory still haunts, and you remember vividly certain things that you just don't want to let go. The little things. Like his/her smell. Laughter. The grip of his/her hands. I remember distinctively in Good Will Hunting :

To have the love be there for her forever. Through anything, through cancer. You wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in a hospital room for two months holding her hand and not leaving because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term "visiting hours" didn't apply to you. And you wouldn't know about real loss, because that only occurs when you lose something you love more than yourself, and you've never dared to love anything that much...................

My wife's been dead two years, Will. And when I think about her, those are the things I think about most. Little idiosyncrasies that only I knew about. Those made her my wife. And she had the goods on me too. Little things I do out of habit. People call these things imperfections Will. It's just who we are. And we get to choose who we're going to let into out weird little worlds. You're not perfect.