Death

I had a long conversation with some friends about death last night. A friend is in the hospital again, one of many visits she's had to make while fighting cancer. Her condition is serious, and we're all waiting to hear more.

There's a great quote, that I think was from Hemingway, but I can't lay hands on at the moment, that went something like this: "I don't fear death, I just hate it." I relate. I've taken some risks with my life now and then, and I don't think I'd have felt bitter about dying from them. The fact that death gets to sit there on the horizon and wait, taking us for good reasons or bad reasons, or just because of stupid, random chance, is such a cheat, though.

The depressing inevitability of death is something I keep at a nice long arm's reach most days, but then, "All stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you." (that one is definitely Hemingway). I, and lots of others, aren't sure we're ready for the end of our friend's story yet, and that's pretty hard to deal with.

I also worry about her husband. He's also a good friend, and a man I admire very much. "There is no lonelier man in death... than that man who has lived many years with a good wife and then outlived her. If two people love each other there can be no happy end to it." My friend has made his wife's recovery his life's work, largely giving up his other great works. I can see the hurt whenever he talks about her illness, or doesn't talk about it. And there's not one fucking thing I can do, except pray. Not one. And that sucks.

I'm feeling pretty damn bitter about this death thing right now.