Stake my future on a hell of a past
Looks like tomorrow is a-comin’ on fast
Ain’t complainin’ about what I’ve got
Seen better times, but who has not
— from ‘Silvio’ by Robert Hunter & Bob Dylan
Catching up on the Pagosa Daily Post editions I missed while traveling, I read Robert Koehler’s post about aging. He declared “giveuptitude” to be his ‘anti-mantra’ about the stage of life he has reached. A good word — though I think he takes life at this age too seriously.
I’m just a couple of years behind Mr. Koehler chronologically. But I’m not quite ready to “give up” — preferring to spend my time as a spectator of human folly.
The day after I read Robert’s post, I learned that my grandchildren’s former stepfather died. He was found on the floor of his bedroom by his parents who went to check on him when they couldn’t contact him. Preliminary autopsy results indicate heart failure was the cause of death. He was 47. (No word on whether the COVID vaccine contributed to his heart failure.)
So what do Mr. Koehler’s speculation about the meaning of life and the actual end of a life have in common? When it’s your time — it’s your time! If it’s not — it’s not! So don’t take life too seriously.
I’ve seen human life end several times — some in peaceful circumstances, others not so. Either way, if you get past how the death may impact others, at the instant the “spirit” (for lack of a better term) leaves the body, it’s transcendent. You can actually see it departing — especially if you look into the dying eyes.
On May 30, 2021, I had my heart attack, which I wrote about here.
It wasn’t my time.
Nine weeks later I walked in to the same emergency room — dying from the Delta COVID. The next afternoon (August 11, 2021), as I was lying alone in a COVID isolation room, death visited me — and we had a dialogue.
The aura of the reaper spoke to me in a clear, calm voice saying that if I closed my eyes and went to sleep, the pain would go away and I’d be at peace. There was nothing scary, or sinister, about it. Just matter of fact.
After considering the suggestion for about two seconds, in an equally calm, clear, matter of fact voice, I replied, “Fuck you! If you want me you’re going to have to come and take me!” The aura instantly vanished. Again, it wasn’t my time.
Those two episodes of death, and the many I experienced as a medic, tell me that Mr. Koehler is taking this stage of his life way too seriously. He seems to be focused on how to recreate society in his own image . Conversely, the older I get the less I give a rat’s ass.
Though I’m becoming more cynical with each passing year about the prospect of changing anything, I still write about what I observe because it exercises my intellect, and “When you are born in this world you’re given a ticket to the freak show … some of us get to sit there … and take notes.” (Thank you, George Carlin.)
So, I could tell Robert, from one septuagenarian to another, to just enjoy the freak show — and don’t take it seriously! That might help him deal with “giveuptitude” more effectively than junk food, video games, and YouTube — or what’s going to become of humanity.
What I’m more interested in at this stage of life is what comes next — after I “shuffle off this mortal coil.”
Where am I going when it’s my time?
Silvio, I gotta go,
Find out something only dead men know…