Day three in the interim job, and it feels like it’s already been a month or more. We’ve begun the process of utilizing technology – which is painful to those who think that green-bar paper is required to balance accounts. Most in the department like that I’m there and that I’m assisting and providing direction. Two in particular hope I get something itchy and lethal, but maybe they’ve had their fill of people dying, since it happens that a co-worker did die at work yesterday, in his office. He was 54 and leaves behind a wife and three boys, the eldest in his first year in college. I was numb most of the day yesterday, up through the evening and dinner with Scott, and even up through about 4:00am this morning when I woke up from disturbing dreams of unfinished conversations with co-workers that will never get finished.
I have wondered before how I’ve made it this far since by all rights I should be dead – many times over. I could have been aborted instead of being adopted, I was saved from drowning by my father in the Green River below the Flaming Gorge dam, I’ve had dozens of close calls on motorcycles, I’ve been in several car accidents, and I was on the edge of suicide years ago. I’ve wondered at times why I am here when others have passed before me. I’ve cursed God and forsworn Christianity and yet I wasn’t smitten dead and I wasn’t sent straight (or gaily) to Hell.
At the very bottom of the well of myself, I voiced a truth that sustained me through the bad times, particularly the time I almost took myself out of life’s equation: I’m a defiant son of a bitch, and not only is that good enough, but it works incredibly well for me. Some fuzzy-feeling faith isn’t going to bolster or supersede that knowledge. I’m obstinate and contrary for no other reason than to be just that, and if I die tomorrow, I’d say the same thing up until the moment I couldn’t ‘cuz I’d be pushin’ up daisies.
This is the part where I put on Elton John’s “Circle of Life” and stew and grieve and hibernate a little more – and offline, I’ll love anyway and will call friends and family and hug Scott, Midas, Saturn and Slipper. And torture gentle readers with the use of random run-on sentences that make as much sense as a Gay Mormon Republican attending BYU and concurrent counseling/electric-shock therapy sessions.
God damn, he was 54.
January 30, 2008 at 9:20 pm
Oh that just sucks. That kind of thing just makes me weep, whether I knew the person or not. I am so sorry – and yes, it does help in life to be a defiant SOB (though it has probably cost me some over the years as well).
Hug Saturn for me – what a pretty kitty!
January 30, 2008 at 9:34 pm
That’s disturbing…. the guy who passed away. On so many levels.
January 31, 2008 at 1:28 am
Sid, I wish we could sit down over drinks and talk about this. I really do. For me as much as for you. And because I’d just like to anyhow.
At my previous job, a 38-year-old single mother of a five-year-old dropped dead walking into the office one day. It was paralyzingly upsetting. 38.
I think my DH has a core of defiance. I probably have a core of squishy gooeyness with random prickles in it.
Hugs.
January 31, 2008 at 9:15 am
We each have our own experiences in life and beliefs that colour who we are, create our current point in time, and tint our futures with our past. Every person has their time, their path, their personal value. No I don’t believe that each person sees their potential because they piss away what they have.
I am extremely happy that a series of fortunate events means that you are still here, colouring my life. You have so much to offer, so much to share, so much more to learn and teach. 54 is far too young to leave this plane, but as you well know you have to work it baby, work it. 97 is far too young if you are giving it your all and living, 54, 44, 34 are far too old if you’re pissing it away (that is not a comment that Mr 54 and gone was pissing it away.)
I love Wry’s “ore of squish gooeyness with random prickles in it” and may steal it for my own, or use it as my basis for my own map. BTW come April Sid and I will defiantely share a glass and toast Wry.
January 31, 2008 at 10:17 am
Sometimes, the only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that some day I might piss someone of for a really good reason.
Other days it is the belief that I might come back as a fruit fly if I don’t get it right….. lol
February 1, 2008 at 8:16 am
A year and a half ago the grim reaper came for me but he went home empty-handed. He’s been circling me for most of my life, but like you I refuse to play his game.
Long live defiance because it’s probably healthier for the soul than niceness. Our bodies, our lives, our choices…
People say nice like it’s a good thing. Fuck that shit – nice is just a word that people use to try and control us. Like you Don, I’m a little rough around the edges sometimes and have been called an asshole as many times as I’ve been called Tom. But look at it this way: the grim reaper don’t get shit from us until we say he gets it.
Your late co-worker leaves a trail of grief and sadness behind him as most who die do. You wanna know the truth? I hate the idea of dieing because it means that after I pass there are going to be a few people, like my daughter and grandkids, who are going to hurt lots over my being gone forever from their lives. That’s why I think death sucks – because people we love get hurt so much when we go.
This could not possibly be the plan of a higher intelligence. Or if it is a higher intelligence it’s a flawed one with sadistic and sociopathic tendencies.
I’ve shouted down gawd before: “Hey gawd, you got some lightning bolts up there? Come on, see if you can hit me. Come on you fucking chicken shit, I’ll even stand still so you can get a good shot at me.” Bleh, he never even tries. What kind of coward doesn’t even try when given an invitiation and a generous handicap? The grim reaper is more interested in me than gawd is.
Keep writing the rules of your life Don. I love your strong will and your excellent defiance. And keep writing about what all of that feels like too because I love reading you!
February 1, 2008 at 9:25 am
I just started my 45th year of life, and knowing I’d lose even a day of my sweet placement here makes me sad. But you know, I hope I go fast, and to help me get over that anxiety, I just think that once it happens to me my energy will dissipate somehow in a lovely way and I won’t care.
Sadly, death really impacts those of us who will miss the departed, IMO, it comes for those who are left behind by the dead. The dead are finished and we are sad and lonely without them. And strangely, the brighter you burn while alive, the more people you will impact as you depart this mortal coil. That’s what makes me wonder more than anything else. Those who seem to eschew death become these beacons of love, live, brilliance and sweetness. When the brilliant ones depart, I ache more.
It is a paradox, but being left emotionally destroyed, wrecked and sad makes our hearts open, raw, and alive. More alive than if we didn’t give it our all.
Thanks to everyone for giving it their “all”, your genuine, brilliant, wondrous, elegant, lovely and impactful all. We burn bright, we are alive.
e
February 3, 2008 at 10:27 am
Makes me think of “Cabaret” “When I go, I’m goin’ like Elsie”. We all have to draw strength from somewhere. I get mine from me. some call it vanity, some call it narcissism. I just know I can can count on me when everyone else has left the party. That and I am too damned independent to have my happiness depend on other people.
You are lucky to have Scott and the kitties. I feel lucky to have my family and friends.
Death is a part of life. I have to keep telling myself this. I don’t actually know any immortals, so one day I know people will be gone. I try not to think about it, but I do it mainly to prepare myself. Now I sound all dark and sad. I am not. But I do think about these things.
February 4, 2008 at 11:31 am
Thank The FSM you’re defiant, I would’ve found a way to end things myself without you around to talk me down again and again.
I’ve had to think about my mortality with disturbing frequency lately, with a couple people my age losing the fight with cancer. It’s become a constant reminder that I don’t have all the time in the world to do what I want.
Big hugs my friend.
February 5, 2008 at 9:35 pm
Wow, that would be so disconcerting and soul-shocking to have a co-worker die in the office during work hours. I’m sorry that I read this so late, and am commenting late. Makes me think on what kinda friend I am (or not)…
Hugs to you. Big, big hugs.