About The Funk...

Observational Spittle from the mind of a man of color in his 40s, without the color added (most times). Come in, laugh, and you may learn something...

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Friday, December 19, 2008

Death, Life, and New Positions

I live across the street from a cemetery. It is located at a point where unless I totally drive out of the way, I will always go past the bloody thing (well, the residents have had ALL of their blood drained out before "moving in", but well, that's another story).


For as long as I can remember, I've been obsessed with my inevitable departure from this world. I ever so often read obituaries, or as I drive by the cemetery, I always glance towards it to see if some other soul has heard the call to answer for their sins (or get reincarnated, or whatever it is a person who has passed believed in before their time card got punched).


Yeah, I know it is "mentally irregular" (alright Rock-O!) to spend the small amount of time that I have on this earth to ponder these things, but hell, it is gonna happen...why NOT think about it, right? I guess the reason that I ponder this so much is that, well, there are a lot of regrets I have personally in my life that I wish I could correct. Also, going back to the whole "what you believe" thing, I guess I am a bit nervous on what happens after the Grim Reaper stops my sexiness.


I read an interesting blog (damn my memory for not bloody remembering who wrote it) where the author and two of her friends starting discussing what happens after one dies (in a religious/logical sense). I thoroughly enjoyed reading this post, as that it has been my obsession for so bloody long. I actually just left a wake of a "friend's" father who died suddenly at the young age of 57, and as that corpses give me the creeps (and I dream about them for weeks), I tried not to look at the casket...but, sadly, my obsession with the end of life (and what is left behind) caused me to glance at the man several times during my hour visit.

I know I probably sound like a person who you don't want to babysit your kids (then again, based on my earlier postings, I bet you were thinking that already). I guess it comes down to my thoughts of, well, if death truly is the end of life....

WHAT IS THE HELL THE POINT OF US BEING HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE?

I mean, let's figure this out...let's say, God (Or Allah, Buddha, Jehovah, or whatever Deity you choose to insert) willing I have, say, another 42 years on this early, and I get to the dirty swimming pool of worm feeders in my 80's. My son's will be in their 40's, and we'll assume the oldest (as that the youngest has Down Syndrome, and the chances of him having kids are fairly slim) has a couple of kids of his own (and 15 or so more others he doesn't choose the claim; hell, the kid is going to be a putang magnet), and I am lucky enough to know them till they have great memories of me (or they think I am a tick on a dirty pube...whatever). My son, due to good health and modern medical technology, lives to be as old as I was, and he gets his casket thang on. His kids will remember their dad, and perhaps remember me, their grandfather. Then they have kids...

Guess what?

At this level of the game of life, I officially do not matter, because that generation won't give two last rites about my fairly rotted ass.

So, what is life then, right? I mean, we all are going to be dead a lot longer than we will be vertical and ventilating.

I guess my obsession with my own end comes from a combination of fearing that agnostics and atheist are right, and what I am just fades away...destroyed like anti-matter, and oh f'ing well.

Or, if what my mama said was right...I have a lot (a wholllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllle lot) to answer for, and I won't get smart enough in time to get things right before my soul becomes that eternal pig on Satan's spit.

Let's not forget reincarnation...hell, I am hoping to come back as a white man with major paper...with the same sized penis as I have now (hey, it's fab, OK? Chicks dig it like Tic-Tacs...correction, have DUG it...my wife has the copyright, and I lose 2/3's on the refund).

Ultimately, it probably sucks to no longer exist, totally unavoidable as it is.

But...

If I DIDN'T die, and say, everyone else does...

Would I want to live and be alone?

Check out "The Green Mile" with Tom Hanks. Loved that flick. His character, due to some magical circumstance, got to see everyone he loved die, because he got the "gift" of outliving everyone else.

You'd think that would be cool, right?

My fear of death and what happens, unless I find some peace in religion or whatever, will continue for as long as I have time on this earth. But when it comes to it, if I get to help make my kids good adults, and they repeat those lessons, I guess in a way, albeit for a short time in the millennium, I can matter.

Besides...

...Being the last one standing is even scarier.

4 comments:

Tug said...

Ah. I can kind of relate.

In the 6th grade I read Tuck Everlasting. (About a family who drinks from the fountain of youth and will live forever and what not.)

That book scared the hell out of me. The thought of outliving everyone I knew was somewhat depressing. Not that death sounds overly appealing? But yeah. I guess that's one of the pluses about having faith in something more. (Religion or what have you.) I wouldn't say that I have the faith to say that I don't fear death. But I have enough where I'm not fearful of it? If that makes sense. I'm rambling. :/

Tug said...

P.S. That was a great post! (Not that I'm shocked by its greatness?) :]

Ellie said...

I agree with Tug - great post. As I think you know, I lost both my parents (well, at least the two that matter - my father is still alive but he is out of the picture). My mom died at 53, my dad (step dad, but I never referred to him as that) died when he was 38. My children never had the pleasure of meeting my parents, but they know who they are. They never met their great grandmother, the woman who helped raise me, but they also know who she is. If you keep telling your children stories of your grandparents, and passing down stories of your great grandparents (provided you have any), your kids hopefully will do the same when you are gone. And thus, you won't be soon forgotten. Just don't do anything that will make you "notorious". Beloved works well!

So Not The Bradys said...

Read Green Mile by Stephen King if you haven't. Truly one of the best book to film I've ever seen. Seriously, when I watched the movie, it was like I'd already seen it.

I think getting old freaks me out about as much as the concept of actually dying. I watch my grandma who is pushing 90, and I can see the frustration caused by a body that defies its owner.