I always had this sense since I was young that the more I thought about things and learned about things the more…horrifying and terriffic the aggregate. First there is this cozy little production, like a high school play, until it peels back to reveal a deeper and more disturbing system that is engineering the production, which seems itself another production of a yet deeper and yet more disturbing system of rules- and from there my sight, thankfully for now, can see no further.
Grief is coming. Always, but also soon assuredly. It’s amazing how much of it can come when it does. Fight the good fight until the urge abates? Is that all there is to it?
Do I even want to be in a world without my parents? My family? My old respected friends?
Maybe dying and subsequently being dead won’t be so bad. It’s scary, but when I was a kid and I was scared I used to climb in bed between my mom and dad. I can still remember it. They had very different smells. My dad was all sweat, stubble, and irish spring- and my ma was smooth and smelled like a makeup case. But it felt safe and warm there in the shadow of my elders.
Dying is just crawling back between your parents and putting your heart to rest with them.