Three years ago today.
And there I am sitting in church, a troubled and confused look splayed across my face as if I'd just been bitch-slapped, asking myself over and over “what the fuck?” I look great, however, in that black Versace suit, hair slicked back, like a million bucks. And then there's you, dude. Lying in that casket there. Your face painstakingly reconstructed, in layers of thick make-up, as to resemble a younger, happier, more alive you - frozen in time in some old photograph your parents gave the mortician... and it's not fooling anybody. You look horrific. Like a wax figurine at Madame Tussaud's. Your body, once perfect (you worked out obsessively and some of us thought you even juiced cause you were just too big and too cut) now shattered and broken. The seventy-five dollar suit you probably wore to church every Sunday stapled to the front of you as your bare, rigid ass naps in the white satin liner of your new bed.
Everyone around us is crying.
Your best friend, Ed, is up in the front pew next to your confused-as-shit kids and your grief-stricken parents. There he is with his face buried in his hands convulsing with sobs. And here I am, seven rows back, wondering what the fuck I should do. How I should act. We were close but not that close. Drinking buddies. Clubbing buddies. Acquaintances, at best... but never friends. There's a distinct difference. Yet here I am because Ed and your parents requested I be here. Because you came to me before "it" happened seeking advice, looking for comfort, looking for an answer, and I didn't even know it. None of us did. You had it all man. Good looks. Charisma. A nice ride. Cute kids. Of course we weren't there that night last Christmas in Wisconsin when you came home from work early and found your wife butt-ass naked fucking some other dude in YOUR bed. Of course I wasn't there the following New Years in Vegas when you overdosed on Extacy and cocaine and spoke to demons and angels.
Life couldn't go on for you could it? And we all thought you were finally finding your way out of this funk. You seemed so much happier. Your shit was finally piecing together. You were dating a really nice girl one hundred times smarter, prettier, caring, and ambitious then your ex-wife, and she loved your kids like they were hers. It was right there in front of your face and you were just too blind, too stupid, too selfish to see it.
And here I am in my designer suit, tears trickling down my face. Not because I'll miss you, because I won't. It sucks admitting that but it's true. I weep because you had so much potential to become something great. No, fuck it, you WERE great. I weep because you were a dad, a hero, a lover, a son, and a friend...
... and you let a lot of people down.
24 comments:
brutal and moving that was - a sincere, uncompromising post as I've come to expect here.
Death is always heartbreakingly dissapointing.
It often leaves me wondering. Maybe in your friends eyes life was moreso the dissapointment.
Sadly sometimes things end too soon.
"to a sound mind, death is the next big adventure."
Love the Housman title. I think I'd feel the same way in that situation. Sometimes people just don't see what they've got.
Stumbled across this blog by accident - you know how you venture from one link to another and the next thing you know...you are eons away into cyberspace so far from your original journey...
Anyway, what a heart-breaking post. Yes, life can be a disappointment at times, but in my opinion (and mine only), choosing death is the utmost height of complete selfishness and I will never understand it.
Ruksak. Thanks. Greatly appreciated.
Red Egg. Perhaps I will never understand. I'm sure in time, if or when I have children of my own, I'll understand less and less.
Colonialave. Something happened to his brain when he O.D'd. Something very, very bad. That is for certain. After the incident in Vegas he'd bring up weird shit like the apocalypse.
Lyza. I agree, and I'll welcome that adventure when it's time... however, until then, there is a lot of adventure still to be had here.
Rae-Ann. He was too pre-occupied with what he'd lost. His fragile pride was his utmost priority.
Exploring_idly. Ah, so the "random blog" wave ultimately led you here, to this lonely beach far away from home? Anyhow... welcome.
And I couldn't agree with you more. Suicide is the most supremely selfish act.
Red Egg. "Someone told me once that we get wiser as we age.."
Wrong. We become more resolute, dare I say... stubborn, in our beliefs. This "certainty" is often mistaken for wisdom.
When an old woman reads your fate in the bottom of a coffee cup, is this wisdom? Or an evolved form of foolishness that age brings?
Regarding this old adage: "Someone told me once that we get wiser as we age.."
No, we become more egoic. That's the biggest problem. We are an ego-driven society and this leads to unhappiness, unrest and all those other "uns" I could list. Not to sound so Tyler Durden-ish (see Fight Club), but ultimately, when we learn to remove the ego...so much is suddenly explained. The ego is what makes us stubborn...what makes us view those superficial things in life as valuable when in fact, they are not. The "certainty" you speak of that we talk ourselves into? All ego-driven. Your "friend" chose death because he identified too much with the demons created within his own mind. Damn EGO demons!! Ok, off this tangent. I will visit this blog...often.
Yeah, well...when ya gotta go, ya gotta go.
Red Egg. "This, my friend, I think is a form of tradition."
Or senility perhaps? ;)
Exploring_idly. Hmmm, if that's the case, when I grow old and gray I'm destined to be SUPER-ego driven as my ego already pervades my entire diminutive being.
Desolation Angel. Lol, how deliciously callous.
Damn. The apocalypse?
You should have advised him to start a blog. He would have been brilliantly loved and possibly worshiped.
Then again this was tthree years ago when blogging was in utero.
Going off of what red egg is getting to - if you don't mind me butting in - and if you do mind well you can kiss it:
Wisdom, in my perspective, is a talent one can only perfect through trial and error. The longer you live the more you experience. It is through experience, the experience of others and the events in your life that you encounter - that you become wise and essentially gain wisdom.
Generic and predictable perspective. That's what I'm here for.
Very nice, Hermes.
So sorry to hear that, Hermes. I need to delve further into your blog then, I guess. From the bits and pieces I have read thus far, I mistook you for being somewhat of an enlightened soul as you seem to see through the facade of the superficial Shallow Hals you write about. Guess I was wrong. Not the first time. SUPER-EGO powers...activate. Back to reading...
Colonialave. Conversely, mistakes will disenchant. Mistakes can oftentimes beat you down into the dirt and grind you into submissive, jaded oblivion.
Tattooed Brain. Thanks for reading.
Vex. We are unique, unusual snowflakes. Our existence is fleeting and we are none alike, yet at the same time, will never... ever... stand apart from the rest.
Autumn Storm. Thanks stranger.
Exploring_Idly. If you delve deeper into this blog you'll find I make, and readily admit to, many mistakes.
I'm currently on step number two in a twelve step program.
you've done an excellent job of capturing the surprisingly common combination of angst and grief.
Whew. I delved much deeper and at times, didn't know if I would sink or swim; rapidly getting lost in the deep, dark waters of your brilliant form of expression. Please know, I was in no way judging you...just stating that I FEEL you are much deeper than the Prada bags and Mercedes BONES walking around. We ALL have egos. Every single last one of us. When we actually learn to let those go (and we never truly let it all go...I am a realist, I realize this), but at least stop allowing it to drive our whole behaviors...life becomes a bit more colorful in a meaningful way. That's all I meant.
Many mistakes we all make...so few admit to any. Looks like you are two steps ahead of most of society. Glad I stumbled across The Dive Bar Verses...enjoyed every moment here. Time I should've spent working but oh well, when am I NOT wickedly busy anyway? Well worth it. Until next time...
Suicide is selfish because the pain caused to the surrounding loved ones last their lifetimes while the bloke lies in oblivion in another realm.
For some of these sad souls, it only takes a split second to be selfish and desperate. Once the decision is made, there is no turning back. One can only wonder, if only.
His pain we'll never know, though I believe his suicide was selfish as well. But, there could be mental health problems that not even he realized he had, and he just couldn't see clearly through his fog.
Your feelings, however, we see clearly, thanks to the complete mastery of words you seem to have.
I am in awe of your writing and do hope that you're collecting these posts to publish. No doubt in my mind that you are capable of it.
Well done, again.
Extraspecial. It's strange how at first... there is only grief. An urgent immediacy to cry and mourn. Later on, three years to be precise, there is only angst and a mere sliver of grief.
Exploring_Idly. No worries. Let me know if you need a life preserver.
Darkmuse. If only. I wonder what his kids will tell people 10... 20 years down the road when asked about their father.
Kathi. Many thanks. I know for a fact something happened when he O.D'd. From that night on it was a steady mental degradation into semi-lucid madness.
Tacit1. We are all like this... never satisfied. I've tried again and again to eliminate this "want." Perhaps I should go Bhuddist.
I have no idea why I keep coming back here. So, much talent.
I like how you never actually tell us how he died. That isn't important, but we all want to know. How? Where?
It's a fucking shame.
Red Egg is way off.
Suicide is the single most selfish act a person can ever commit.
Nice post, though.
Mad Munkey. Because sometimes we love to see other's pain. Seriously, this is true.
Aydreeyin. He jumped off a bridge. His face smashed against a rock like a watermelon and his limbs were unnaturally contorted like a ball-park pretzel.
Chuckles. Yes. Amen. And thanks for visiting.
Your black Versace suit...like a million bucks as opposed to the seventy-five dollar suit...stapled to the front of him, intrigues me.
He had it all. Seemingly designed just like the suits they wore. It all became so cheap in his death.
The saracasm is very effective and masterfully done.
But I wonder if perhaps life became just...too expensive?
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