Waiting on Invincibility’s End.

For the lucky ones, fatal tragedy does not strike early. Sure death is something, but it’s not something that happens to me. It happens in black & white history books. It happens in freak accidents overheard on the Channel 4 news. It gets emotional when beloved cartoon characters are involved, sure, but that’s hardly a true tragedy.

Our first brush with death is often with the loss of the family pet, or perhaps the passing of a grandparent. Yes, these are crushing, but they’re kind of supposed to happen, right? The lifespan of an animal is way shorter than humans, and old people? Well — and I hate to be blunt — but old people die all the time.

It’s nothing unexpected.

Sure death is out there, but it’s for the others in my life. Not to me. Not to my friends. Not for anyone we wouldn’t see it coming.

As I age, I have begun to learn the truth. Or maybe learn about the truth would be a better phrasing. I watched freak accidents in my local music community claim heroes just my age, who looked, dressed and lived just as I did. I comforted my high school friends when a classmate wrapped his car around a fence. I dabbed my eyes at the heart-wrenching funeral of a friend’s mother.

All of these things took me closer to understanding the gargantuan impact of death, but I still was not quite there.

It was a member of band I saw play at a few shows. It was a classmate from another clique. It was my friend’s mom, but was not my mom.

I was learning about death as best as I could. But still… it’s not enough to understand.

Sympathy is not empathy. No matter how hard you try.

This sentiment has been underscored in my time writing for Mylestoned. I’ve submerged myself in thoughts on mortality, aging and advances in the futuristic world of #DeathTech. All of it has established a mindset to pause thoughtfully on fatality, but it began to resonate in full during a conversation I had with the startup’s CEO, Dave.

A friend from college had just passed away, and I wanted to explore how to best weave a Mylestone into his memorial. I’ve recently gotten much comfort out of the Mylestone I set up for my late cat, and can attest with honesty to how soothing one can be.

Halfway through our discussion Dave asked me;

Man, he was young. Is this the first Big One for you?

I had to pause for a moment.

No. No, not yet.

My friend was a great guy, don’t get me wrong, but he was from the edge of my social circle. I’ll miss him, but it was not the paradigm shifting loss that Dave was obviously referencing. I could tell right away that Dave’s comment was one born out of first-hand experience. A Big One comes for us all, and you can only wait. I was reminded of a favorite song lyric, that now carries even more significance:

Everyone in the world comes at some point to suffering.

I wonder when I will.

I wonder…