I have important things to write about.
Every time someone dies, I have this terrible feeling that I don’t have a right to be upset. I’m not close enough to the tragedy, and therefore my emotions must be disingenuous. I know it’s not a correct assumption. It’s OK, absolutely, no matter who or where you are, to be upset about another human dying. But, I just can’t shake it the feeling that if I were to sit around and cry all day about it, I’d just be acting all dramatic.
Death gets dealt with in a multitude of ways.
Having said that, the death of my former boss this week, Jack Hall, has made me feel a whole host of emotions that I haven’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever.
Some people are surrounded by death early on. I don’t have a lot of experience with the death of people who I care about. Jack’s death was unexpected, and sad. I’m not in Philly to grieve with everyone, or to go to the funeral. Instead, I’m just wandering around Minneapolis mumbling about how my old boss died, and it hardly means anything to anyone.
He was a nice guy with a predilection towards the art of telling dirty jokes. He was a mumble mouth, and ate poorly. But he was a swell guy, who loved his wife and cared about his daughter. He gave me an awesome job, and helped me to succeed at that job in a way that bosses rarely, if ever, do. One day I didn’t show up to open the store, and he was going to come to my house with another employee to make sure I wasn’t hurt, or sick, or in trouble, because he knew that showing up late was something I wouldn’t ever do on purpose.
Who does that?
He died, and all I want to do is go on and on about how when I left Philly, everyone blinked out of my life. I’ll never see some people again, and it’s like they are dead. But they aren’t. I don’t see them, I just imagine the lives they are leading, like the grieving in denial.
At work I made drinks and thought about dying. How afraid I am of it. Not because I’d feel like I hadn’t left enough behind, but because everyone goes alone.
And how it’s like you’re living, and living, and then you are dead. It sounds like a contradiction, but it’s seems to me that it’s as if you are jerked awake. You’re sleeping, and dreaming, and then you’re awake. It’s got to be confusing. And maybe similar to how a dream seems so clear and obvious while it’s happening, when you wake up nothing about the dream makes sense. You live and things make sense, then you die and look back, and nothing seems so clear.
How could I ever know. Much less report back.