Saturday, February 12, 2011

Happy Valentine's... You're Dead.

I have often been accused of delusions of grandeur. Usually by my wife, many of my most honest friends, my brothers, and twice more often yet again, my loving and lovely wife.

Today is Sunday, February 13, 2011. A day before valentine’s. It is on this day and this whole stretch of weekend and beyond, that children are conceived for obvious reasons. But it is also on this day that i know of at least two gentlemen who will be laid down on their final resting places.

I do not know them nor do i pretend to. But here’s the connection:

One is an eighty-something man whose wake is constantly populated by an endless string of family members who’ve known and lived with all his ticks and whatnots throughout his long, eight-decade life. His descendants are a series of professionals in various fields, mostly with families of their own and all miss him dearly at a personal level.

The other one is larger-than-life personality who has held very various positions of power in government and the military over the course of almost four decades of service. He also has lots of friends and family at his wake. He also has the media, fellow soldiers, at least two presidents, and probably hundreds of senators, congressmen, and all sorts of officials at his wake.

Both are gone, both leave gaping holes in the lives of who they leave behind.

I am left wondering... at my age, should i still strive to depart like the latter one, who must have sacrificed a great deal to spread his reach as far as he has? Or should i continue to live my life the way i (sort of) quietly do and move on like the first old man? Who incidentally, had a whole twenty more years than the other guy. Those additional twenty years must have been filled with so much laughter, so much color, a sprinkling of heartaches perhaps, to remind one that one is human... so much... life. But to live such that one’s death creates a media fall-out that ripples through all seven thousand islands and beyond... man, that must also be something, right?

How would YOU want to die?

But see, they’re both gone. What they’ve left behind no longer matters to them. Heck, nothing matters to them at this point. Not how many bouquets were brought to their wake, now how many masses were offered in their name, not how many throngs of people march to their wakes, nor how people speak of them. Nothing matters anymore. Right?

But of course the ultimate conceit is even thinking that i have it in my hands to choose how i will be remembered when the time comes.

Or if i will even be remembered at all. Come to think of it, those two dead guys are pretty lucky.

‘catch you later.

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