When Death Comes
Death is inevitable. There’s no getting out of here alive, so why then all the drama?
It’s on the way for everything and everyone, that’s certain.
In fact, to look at it as something that’s coming, as something that’s down the road is not accurate.
In reality, it’s here already, present in every single moment of our lives. To separate it out from life is to not see the full picture.
Living and dying exist together, co-operative elements in this thing we’re doing. Like two sides of a wheel, as one side goes up the other goes down.
It’s night and day, up and down, left and right, hot and cold. In between the two apparent extremes we exist.
There’s none of us getting out of here alive, yet we live like death doesn’t exist, then lose the plot when it comes around.
It’s especially so when death comes to young people.
The young ones are not supposed to go early, they have a life to live. We stay until we’re old, that’s the deal, right?
Everybody needs to go on living for as long as possible. It’s honorable and right to do so, to keep on going.
For me, there’s something flawed about all of that.
Getting Used To Death
My wife is an ICU nurse, she sees people dying all the time. She and her colleagues appear to have a different outlook on death to the rest of us.
It’s not that death becomes easy to take for people exposed to it all the time, but rather there appears to be an acceptance of it.
It’s part of the deal.
Of course, we’re not supposed to be happy when someone close to us leaves. But in all of that, I think we have a little emotional growing up to do.
Maybe if we tune out to the noise of things, turn off the TV, get out of our own heads and spend some time on our own, we could begin to see the actual reality of life.
We might be able to see the reality beyond social norms and flawed concepts of what this existence is supposed to be.
Here’s What Went Down On The Blog Last Week
What got me thinking about death this morning was a short story I wrote yesterday called The Washerwoman.
My 9 year old son was doing do chores for his mother, part of which was to hang out clothes on the washing line. It was a bit of an effort for him so I gave a hand.
That little scenario of hanging out clothes got me thinking about a couple of things…
…My wife’s love of doing laundry (not).
…My next door neighbour for some reason.
…My mother who taught me the simple skills of washing and hanging out clothes.
…Death, impatience, frustration, simple tasks.
All of that made a contribution to the story in a single download that took about a microsecond to come to me.
The story is what you’d call a first draft and needs a little work but I like the outcome nonetheless.
It’s a story about a simple conversation at the washing line, between two women at either ends of life one late spring afternoon.
Death features, that’s all I’ll say about it. You’ll need to go read it.
Last Monday I started a new publication on Medium called Storymaker where writers and other creatives can share their stuff — check it out.
Later in the week, a theme of work began to surface. I talked about entrepreneurship, how art and business are not in opposition, and how artists can develop themselves as business people.
Articles from last week;
Tuesday — The Unemployable Generation
Wednesday — The Joy of Having Nothing To Do
Saturday — The Washerwoman
Sunday — You’re reading it 🙂
That’s it for this week peeps,
Have a good one
Originally published at larrygmaguire.com on Sunday June 4, 2017.
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Howdy, I’m Larry, Writer & Artist. Thanks for taking the time to read my stuff. I write about art & creativity. When I’m not doing that I write short stories about the ordinary lives of people and the challenges they face. My stuff can be edgy, hard hitting, and sometimes controversial, but never contrived. If that’s your bag you can Sign-up To Sunday Letters Here.