Miserable, Untimely Death

I’m not one of those people who thinks death is strange. When I was a wee kid, I almost died from a bee sting. This was unpleasant. I went into a coma for a day. They say.
In 1998, I had this strange feeling I was dying. It was my appendix. After the operation, I had a gratitude experience that informed my adulthood from then on. Second lease. All that.
I like to live. I do. But I figure I will die. I hope I am very old when it happens. But really, only, if I am not alone. Or at least not too alone. Or at least with a little dog or something or a nurse that doesn’t hate me.

Death, in threes. Mid-September.

I sat at a cafeteria table at Tufts once singing the Great Green Globs of Grimy Gopher Guts song…not knowing that the woman at the end of the table was Kara Kennedy. My good friend, Ma we called her because she was older than us and she knew Kara, was kicking me under the table. And then the kicks got harder and harder. I was very annoyed. Kara got up and left the table. Ma said, “That was Kara Kennedy. The one you said you were going to get to marry you.” What is hilarious is that Ma (and I for a childish second) thought this was even a possibility. I did not know Kara Kennedy, but she certainly thought I was a loud, annoying infant. Which I was. And she did not marry me. Now she is no longer alive. So many people are no longer alive. It was strange to read that she died.

Then, I read on Facebook today, that a friend of mine from high school died. This is terrible. I had a very special class trip to Paris in the tenth grade which sort of informed me that I wanted to spend a lot of time in France. At the time I was sixteen. I think I slept four hours a night. I was staying on the top floor of the Pont Royal Hotel in the Sixth Arr. And so was Stacy, next door, with another friend, KK. All the other kids were on lower floors---somehow, we had the luck of getting the garret rooms. It was a party—but mostly just horsing around, like you do, when you’re young and innocent and insist on having a good time. I was so sad to hear that she died (See that she died) on Facebook. I have no idea how. Sounds like it was sudden. She really was one of those warm, incredible members of our species. Sadness. Stories ending. Paris will carry on. This Stacy, really, was unique. Often, people die and you think, “Yeah, okay—death.” But this one was a real drag.

And we saw the movie Contagion. We even Imaxed it because seats were available. Kind of documentary-like. Full on cast of amazing actors. It was enjoyable. No real conflict in the story. It was laid out more like a documentary. Well done, Mr. Soderbergh and everyone in it. Worse, could be ahead.