holes.
You know that feeling?
The one when you get a new car and the next thing you know, everyone and their fourth cousin is driving around in a different color of the model that you've just bought?
Well, apply that theory to death.
On a Monday, someone that you know peripherally will die. Sympathy ensues. Then someone a few degrees closer will die on Thursday; more sympathy and more sadness. You may even begin to get the "wow - two deaths in one week? weird" feeling. Then the following Monday the husband of a co-worker whon you are very close with dies. Sympathy, sadness, empathy, and an outward cry "I can't take any more".
Last night I recieved word that someone that I had known in High School had passed away unexpectecly. He was 28, and truthfully, this was the first time, in this month laden with death, that the shock was stonger than the empathy, sympathy, and sadness.
To say that he and I were not friends would be doing a disservice to the amount of energy that we had both put into hating each other, and as I'm now coming to find, hate is similar to love in that once the object of your emotion is gone, a huge void is left.
A few days before his passing, through the wonderful[ly addictive] myspace, he made contact with his first girlfriend (who happens to be my best friend). It was a message common to the venue: "hey. it's been a while. how are things going in your life?" Myspace is great because such messages come with a packaged profile. A profile so similar to the human race in as much as they are more alike than they are different. Of course she told me who had just contacted her; And of course I followed the links to the profile of my arch-nemesis.
I found nothing to mend my minefields into plowshares. From the first impression, mixed with a touch of residual High School agnst, I re-enforced my belief that this was not someone that was a benefit to the human race.
Five days later: he's dead and, as I stated above, I was more shocked than sad. More unsettled than empathetic. More relieved than consoling.
This morning I made my way back to his myspace profile. There I found that it had become a makeshift memorial - a posthumus diary. And the comment section is (as i write this) filling up with third party testaments to the caring and pleasant nature of the person that I had only allowed myself to hate.
So, I finally took time to read his words and process the lists he had made of favorite movies/tv/music/books and I was overcome with sorrow. There, in a section labeled interests, was the description of someone that I could spend time with -- someone that was nothing like the man that I thought he was: the person that I hated.
And that brings me here:
For the past 20 days or so it feels like I have been surrounded by death and I have come to notice that the work that Christians attribute to Christ is actually something that we as humans should be taking credit for: attoning sin.
Since his death, no one will tell you of all of the deplorable things that Joe did. You won't find a comment about all of the persons that he alienated and the scars that he left on my ego. And that's all right by me. In flushing from my pride those wrongs that he has done to me, I am able to be at ease with mortality and hold fast to each moment I have. His passing has left a hole in me: where there was once hatred, I'm filling with compassion.
Albiet a few days too late, I have unburdened my ill-will toward him. And I have forgiven myself for being hateful.
I wish the same to my co-worker, who is, in her own way, working through her goodbye.
The one when you get a new car and the next thing you know, everyone and their fourth cousin is driving around in a different color of the model that you've just bought?
Well, apply that theory to death.
On a Monday, someone that you know peripherally will die. Sympathy ensues. Then someone a few degrees closer will die on Thursday; more sympathy and more sadness. You may even begin to get the "wow - two deaths in one week? weird" feeling. Then the following Monday the husband of a co-worker whon you are very close with dies. Sympathy, sadness, empathy, and an outward cry "I can't take any more".
Last night I recieved word that someone that I had known in High School had passed away unexpectecly. He was 28, and truthfully, this was the first time, in this month laden with death, that the shock was stonger than the empathy, sympathy, and sadness.
To say that he and I were not friends would be doing a disservice to the amount of energy that we had both put into hating each other, and as I'm now coming to find, hate is similar to love in that once the object of your emotion is gone, a huge void is left.
A few days before his passing, through the wonderful[ly addictive] myspace, he made contact with his first girlfriend (who happens to be my best friend). It was a message common to the venue: "hey. it's been a while. how are things going in your life?" Myspace is great because such messages come with a packaged profile. A profile so similar to the human race in as much as they are more alike than they are different. Of course she told me who had just contacted her; And of course I followed the links to the profile of my arch-nemesis.
I found nothing to mend my minefields into plowshares. From the first impression, mixed with a touch of residual High School agnst, I re-enforced my belief that this was not someone that was a benefit to the human race.
Five days later: he's dead and, as I stated above, I was more shocked than sad. More unsettled than empathetic. More relieved than consoling.
This morning I made my way back to his myspace profile. There I found that it had become a makeshift memorial - a posthumus diary. And the comment section is (as i write this) filling up with third party testaments to the caring and pleasant nature of the person that I had only allowed myself to hate.
So, I finally took time to read his words and process the lists he had made of favorite movies/tv/music/books and I was overcome with sorrow. There, in a section labeled interests, was the description of someone that I could spend time with -- someone that was nothing like the man that I thought he was: the person that I hated.
And that brings me here:
For the past 20 days or so it feels like I have been surrounded by death and I have come to notice that the work that Christians attribute to Christ is actually something that we as humans should be taking credit for: attoning sin.
Since his death, no one will tell you of all of the deplorable things that Joe did. You won't find a comment about all of the persons that he alienated and the scars that he left on my ego. And that's all right by me. In flushing from my pride those wrongs that he has done to me, I am able to be at ease with mortality and hold fast to each moment I have. His passing has left a hole in me: where there was once hatred, I'm filling with compassion.
Albiet a few days too late, I have unburdened my ill-will toward him. And I have forgiven myself for being hateful.
I wish the same to my co-worker, who is, in her own way, working through her goodbye.
posted by brian. at 12:24 PM
