Saturday

Who was it who first explained death to me? Was it my mom? She might have told me about it during one of our many conversations during the day...while my dad was at work...and we drifted from department store to department store...or we just sat on the porch. She's the one who told me about our dog, Wolf, getting killed by the mailman's jeep. That's the first time I ever cried about death.

Or was it my dad who told me about death? He explained all sorts of phenomena: scientific things, mechanics, engineering, war, history, sports...

Or was it my sister? If so, I wouldn't have believed her. I would have worried that she was trying to pull a fast one on me. "Some day, you die."

"Will not."

"Will too."

"Will not."

How did this belief in death get so solidified? What about my beliefs in Santa and God?

I have seen quote unquote dead people. Were they faking? I have seen movies where people get killed in gruesome, convincing ways. It's just a movie. I have seen people here one day and then gone the next, and they haven't come back yet. People say that they died. Did they really just wander off?

3 comments:

JR's Thumbprints said...

... and I have seen people who cause death and don't give two shits about it. Now there's a swift kick in the reality.

Bobby said...

Up close and personal I bet. How do you do what you do. I'm watching that show Lockup on Hulu.com . . . And I'm quite sure I'd never make it.

Pacian said...

I learned about it in playschool, when the other kids were discussing how you supposedly died when you reached 100 years old.

I remember going home crying.