I believe I'm getting to that age where tragedy, sickness, and mortality become more common in one's life, when you start to get a familiarity (if never an actual comfort) with sad events, like you do with an article of clothing--one that is not your favorite, but keeps hanging around.
The point is, yes, death is part of the cycle of life, and I firmly believe that the dead are just beginning a journey that we living only get glimpses of in our lives. And I don't actually believe that the events following death are that bad for those passing over. But they sure are hell on those of us left.
In the course of two weeks, Donna's boss and friend (only 40 years old) was hit and killed by a car; I got news that my aunt has breast cancer; and I just learned today that my Vietnam vet uncle had a heart attack and is now technically brain dead. It made me think of that ELO song "Telephone Line." I was listening to it last week and was struck by the depth of the lyrics (it could just be about waiting on hold, in the dead air of the purgatory of telephone land. Or another kind of purgatory. In any case, nice metaphor, especially for a silly pop song): "Give me some time, I'm living in twilight."
My uncle is neither living nor dead, but living in twilight. Probably the weirdest possible place to be, his journey delayed. It must be like in the song, waiting on the phone, waiting for someone to speak or answer, for something to happen. It must feel like dangling on the end of a string over an unknown abyss. Weird. All day I was thinking about this song, sick home from work. Then I get a phone call from my mom telling me that my uncle's tests register no brain activity.
If you want to know how I feel, listen to ELO for me.
