Low down dirty shame
Everyday, all around me-reaching into places that I can’t see or feel-people are dying. I drive around in my car and hear the plight in Tripoli, hear whats happening in the Middle East, hear a gunshot down the street, read about someone two states away. The news is always bad.
More exquisitely its difficult and painful when its right up in front of your face, staring down your heart where you keep people who you love. Waiting for someone to lose something. Knowing that it will slip right through their fingers like water.
Is there anyway other way to leave this earth than tragically? Even if you are 109 years old and die on top of Mt. Everest after having the best orgasm of their life and surveying the world knowing that all of those you love are safe, happy and healthy-its still tragic when you die. It’s always tragic when people die. Thats the easy part.
The hard part is the fact that after someone dies they carry with them all the memories you made together and the key that fits into your lock is lost forever and those conversations, memories, laughs, arguments and struggle will lose their complete importance forever because the other side of it all is gone.
All that’s left is the conversation you have in your heart and head, alone.