The Art of Dying
Thumbs up for Hugh Hefner
What defines you? Your excellent educational background, professional career, hobby, family status? Yes, these are the first notions that come to mind when faced with that question. However, there’s another less obvious one: the way one dies or, more specifically, how the world, meaning people spared (temporarily), responds to your death. That aspect of your existence, i.e. its terminal end, nicely sums up what kind of person you, sorry to say, were.
Based on my local experience, when Mrs Kolasinsky, my lovely elderly neighbour, died a few years ago, I could watch her husband curl up and shrink in an attempt to disappear. He seemed confused and lost since the light had gone out in his small universe and darkness was all he could see. He seemed to suffer the loss of his place in the world he could feel at home. I didn’t have much contact with my deceased neighbour apart from “Hello”, “Good morning”, “How are you?”, but judging by her husband’s reaction, she must have been special. No doubt about that.
By way of contrast, when another nice neighbour of mine, Mrs Milovich, became a widow, something quite the opposite happened. The rumour has it her husband was a tight-fisted, nasty sort of a guy. His hard-working wife always lived quietly in his shadow. After his death she was reborn, rising like a phoenix from the ashes. Suddenly she straightened her back and became visible. Apparently in her small, sad and dark universe the light came on and got reflected in her eyes, in her whole appearance. At present she’s all smiles wearing only light colours and make-up for the first time in her life. Well, it’s quite obvious for everyone now that the rumour has proved correct.
Based on my global experience, when Hugh Hefner died…“all the clocks stopped, the telephone cut off, the dog ceased to bark, the pianos silenced”. No, it wasn’t so dramatic as W.H. Auden would suggest, at least for me personally. For me his death exerted an impact similar to the end of the world described in Czesław Miłosz’s poem: “a bee circled a clover, a fisherman mended a glimmering net, a drunkard grew sleepy at the edge of a lawn, and those who expected lightning and thunder were disappointed”. Yup, more or less, except that the title should have to be changed. It wasn’t the end of the world, at least for me personally. However, when Hugh Hefner died, something quite peculiar struck me.
I was watching one of those high quality TV news channels in Poland on politics and economics, namely TVN Business and the World, and I heard they were going to reminisce Hugh Hefner. What? Hefner? And that’s how I learnt he’d passed away. When a public person dies, on that channel they always, invariably, to a greater or lesser degree, assume, if not sad, then at least serious facial expressions, full of thoughtfulness and nostalgia. In the case of Hugh Hefner — NO WAY!
The programme was run by a highly-esteemed knowledgeable journalist who discussed the Hefner’s phenomenon with a renowned psychologist and a top fashion designer. They all displayed no signs of graveness, sorrow or melancholy. They were all smiling from ear to ear throughout the whole programme instead. Their beams were light-hearted, spontaneous, impossible to resist and stop. On the one hand, it was somewhat weird to observe such a reaction to death, so in contrast to the typical response in such circumstances, but, on the other hand, hey, it was Hugh Hefner who died, right? Hugh Hefner! How could anyone keep a straight face?
Wow! That’s how I’d love to die! I don’t want to die like Mrs Kolasinsky taking all the light with me. I don’t wish to die like Mr Milovich either, turning the light on. I want to die like Hugh Hefner - evoking broad sincere smiles devoid of a sigh of relief on the faces of people left behind. Yeah, sure! That’s the type of treatment I demand from death! Death — can you hear me?
And the thing that comes to mind here: is it appropriate to light a candle for the Hugh’s soul? Nope, I don’t think so. We’d better arrange a spectacular orgy to commemorate him! Or at least, if you prefer a rather more traditional approach, let’s do IT with a husband/ wife/ life partner only, with the light switched off, under a blanket, like decent people do. Let’s get down to work! For the soul of Hugh Hefner!
