Occasionally, everyone thinks of death. Usually, these thoughts come to us after some we know passes away.
This past Wednesday night, I had a feeling something was going on at the house across the street; there were so many cars there. The owners are senior citizens in their eighties; the wife has been afflicted with dementia for the past couple of years. As it turns out, Wednesday night she went into the hospital for congestive heart failure and there she passed away with all her loved ones around her.
It was finally on Friday that her obituary published; the wake was that night. Marcy and I went to pay our respects; we talked with to her son, grandchildren, great grandchildren and other various relatives we had met over the years. I leave it to Marcy to remember names and who's who.
We've lived across from Mary and her surviving husband, Augie, for sixteen years. Mary and Augie were among the first neighbors we met; they were lovely people. There were more times than I can count, where I was stuck at work, on a Saturday night, Marcy was at work and Mary watched our daughters until I arrive home; she always did this kindness for us.
Losing Mary made me think of death and not in a morbid way. I look at death as nature's way of recycling us. We are buried or cremated; one-way or another our spirit is released back into the pool, awaiting another chance at life.
I know that when I die, I'll go to a better place with no pain and suffering and I'll be able to look down upon my family and keep a watchful eye over them. I hope that I'll reappear within their lifetimes, be able to see them again and convince them who I am or was.
Let's face it; death is inevitable. Immortal we are not. We all strive to live a full, happy and healthy life, but hiccups occur.
Not everyone in the world is "good," unfortunately. Some are always planning to do harm to their fellow human beings for no good reason other than their religious beliefs tell them to do it. Alternatively, such do harmers are just plain bad.
"Do unto others as you want others to do onto you" are very true words. We'd all like to think that if we behave well and act nice to other people, we get the same in return. Again, that's not always the case.
I work in sales. I know what I'm talking about. There are people that are plainly mean, no reason or rhyme.
When I was about five years old, my grandfather Martin died. I was staying at my other grandparent's house. I will never forget that night for as long as I live. I don't know if I dreamt this or it actually happened. I remember seeing Martin floating above me, telling me he was okay and it was okay to be sad.
I don't remember if I told anyone at the time about that little vision. It was vivid enough for me to remember all this time.
After I had to put my first cat, Domino, to sleep, I started to see a black streak out of the corner of my eye whenever I was in the basement. I buried her in the garden; when I’m in the basement, she lies above me. I believe that streak is Domino, staying with me.
I even saw her when I traveled to Portland, Oregon, for the funeral of my Aunt Pam, a few years ago. I saw that black streak in the hotel room. I know it was her, being there for me as best as she could.
Do we get in our cars, hop on the parkway thinking about possibly dying because someone else is driving drunk or simply walking down the street with the possibility of someone robbing and killing use. I try to abolish those negative thoughts and bop with the music in the car or walk minding my own business.
When you've read this column, hug your wife, your kids and whatever pet you have and think to yourself how lucky you are that you are alive.
Matt Seinberg lives on Long Island, a few minutes east of New York City. He looks at everything around him and notices much. Somewhat less cynical than dyed in the wool New Yorkers, Seinberg believes those who don't see what he does like reading about what he sees and what it means to him. Seinberg columns revel in the silly little things of life and laughter as well as much well-directed anger at inept, foolish public officials. Mostly, Seinberg writes for those who laugh easily at their own foibles as well as those of others.
Click above to tell a friend about this article.