I Remembered What I Almost Forgot
57Three Beans and the Almighty
What can I say about life that hasn't already been said? Not a damn thing, I'm sure. But since DNA and fingerprints are unique to each of us, maybe I'll say the words differently enough that they'll strike a chord with someone--maybe even me.
When I started writing this thing I had not yet been made aware that another of my relatives had been felled by . . . the killer gene? I'm so sad. My tiny cousin who is over 50 but still is like the little girl I knew when I was a little girl, came over today to tell us that her 25 year-old son . . . died. She didn't say "suicide" but he'd just gotten out of rehab and was dead the same day. Accidental? Accidentally on purpose? Some part of me says a combination of both. I guess we'll hear the whole story at the memorial service.
According to the messages left on his Internet obituary a lot of people loved him, cared about him, really thought he was sweet, kind, special. Oh, yeah, probably born with "too many feelings."
My relatives take their religion seriously, and it's a good thing. The invisible is all we have to cling to sometimes. I suppose this is one of those times that the God we all carry with us makes an appearance. We'll all gather on Sunday and have our best Gods on. God is love. Why the hell did that kid do that to the people who love him? People born with too many feelings should be rounded up and put on an island so they can't hurt anyone who loves them. And the people on the Island of Too Many Feelings can wander around all day crying and aching and cursing the day they were born and leave everyone else alone. We can't help it and no one can help us. They want to, but they can't and they are so desperately determined to understand something so foreign to their psyches. Some of us pull out of it, at least for a while, but it's always back there waiting for our next weak moment.
three six nine, the . . . something drank wine. . .Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Death comes in threes. All Right! Who's next? Why the hell did he do it? What a stupid question, from you, of all people. How could he do that to his mom, his sweet little Mom, his sweet loving Mom who's already been through more grief than should be allowed by God's law. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know why you did it--if you did it. Our other relatives know why you did it--if you did it. But you were too young. Why am I still here and you're gone? Only the good die young. Mad, sad, still alive. I didn't know you but I love you. I wish you were here so I could tell you it'll be alright. You wouldn't believe me or you wouldn't care. I didn't. But I'm old; you're young. Do you know yet how wrong you were? All those people who love you and ache for you, they'll go about their business and you'll be gone. You won't be able to come back! Do you understand me!? This isn't some kind of game, young man! I know, I know. Why? Suzi says, "Why not!?"
Were you wrong? Is anything wrong? Am I envious? No, I'm not. More than anything I'm a Mom thinking about the way I'd feel if I lost my daughter. Does it even matter how it happens? Would I have felt worse pain if my brother had taken his own life, as he'd promised us he would all those years before he ended up dead on that kitchen floor? Somehow that's worse, or at least you can blame . . . who? Who can you blame? What can you blame? No one. Nothing. God damn it!
How are we capable of feeling so much pain and so much love at the same time? It's like giving birth. What a rotten scheme. Ron's right; this is a rotten plan. Agony and ecstasy. Why must there be agony? It makes no sense whatsoever and yet we buy into it. God, we're idiots. We're idiots running around shoring each other up for the next misery. Get back up on that trap-door and let the next person paying a quarter throw those balls so you can fall in that tank of water. Let us hold you up while the bad guys beat the shit out of you. But we love you so much. And we'll take good care of you while you're recuperating. We'll take really good care of your corpse if the bad guys kill you. Because we love you. And God loves you. Love is all around. Can't you feel it!
I'm okay. I'll stay glued to this plane of existence until God decides it's okay for me to leave. Suzi's right--Why not? Oh, yeah, I almost forgot what I almost forgot: There's always something better waiting around some of the most rotten, stinking, miserable corners.
Beans--some borrowed
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Thanks Charlie. It was so weird. I'm not an omen believer, maybe, but I liked GT's jelly bean picture, I read about your burnt beans, and then I went downstairs and there were exactly 3 kidney beans sitting in a pan in the sink. Maybe sometimes these coincidences appear so that we won't take death or problems too seriously. I'm so sad for my cousin and so glad, usually, my loved ones convinced me I wasn't allowed to step off . . . this mortal coil? (is that right? you know more about Shakespeare than I) Tell your son that he has to stay put and suffer along with the rest of us.
There are others here that know the Bard much better than I, much better. As in Teresa McGurk the retired professor and poetess of Irish wit.
Yeah, we gotta stick around and suffer and become diamonds while the others are just shooting stars that burn out quickly and just fade away. Sad, sad and truly mad
Thanks again, dear. Life goes on. I'm off to take a friend to the laundromat but will be back soon, I'm sure.
Hi Mom. . . I only cried a little. It's times like this when I wish that suicide had never become associated with all the negative connotations given it by the sanctioned religions of our era. I have my own religion, and I know that Eric is just as much a part of the infinite cycle now as he ever was, same as the rest of us. But so many, even those that knew him and loved him best, (maybe especially those,) will struggle for the rest of their time in the life part of their cycles with the same things you struggle with here, and more. . .they'll fear his immortal soul trapped in a place of torture just as vile as that he felt he suffered in life.
Sometimes I think that if society had somehow developed in a way that allowed our free will to extend to choosing the manner and the hour of our own deaths, we'd all be happier. Maybe? If we lived in a world where we could always know that if the time came when we felt we'd suffered enough, we could just go to the nearest medical facility and say, "Ok, I'm done." and they'd say, "Ok, let's fix you up in a nice comfy spot. What atmosphere would you like as you drift off?" Would that be better?
Of course, if I ran the universe, the trade-off for that arrangement would have to be that no one ever got terminally ill or had any health problems, ever, no matter what they did or when. No babies born with deformities or with defective brains, party all you want and never even have hangovers, much less vital organ damage, and very little in the way of invasive organisms to attack us. So we'd be sort of immortal and invincible. And then, when we got tired of it all. . .off we'd go and no one would suffer because it would be the natural order. . .
But that's not how it is, and you are stronger than Eric was. I'd never say that to anyone else, but if he did what we suspect, . . .Gods forgive me for speaking ill of the dearly departed. . .he did it out of cowardice. You're no coward! You could never made it half so far through anywhere near so much adversity if you were. His youth doesn't argue in favor of him waiting and seeing; without the frame of reference of experience, how could he know that things could get better? You're older, and know better, but you are right when you say that wouldn't have mattered to Eric; the coward always has the perfect rationale: "You Don't REALLY Know! You haven't walked in my shoes, you CAN'T walk in my shoes, it's IMPOSSIBLE for you to feel what I feel, you only think you can imagine, but that Isn't Good Enough! You Aren't Inside My Skin, so Screw YOU!! There can never be any consolation for THIS pain, not for ME. Maybe for you and maybe for others who think they hurt as bad as I do, but not for me, because if there were, I'd have it by now. There is only one escape from this torture, and I'll not be stopped!"
<sigh> Should be writing my own hub about this, eh? I love you Mom, and if we guilted you out of your options, it's only because we're selfish and cowardly ourselves; we're all in this crazy world together, for better and worse, and we don't want to go through it without you if it can be helped. That's all.
Well put Katie, daughter of love.
I can't say it any better than CC said it, especially the 'daughter of love' part.
CC: Thank you , and in particular for sharing your story with Mom. She tells me you are going through a heartbreaking time as well, and you have my deepest sympathy as well as my apologies; my opinions are a bit harsh and not to be taken personally by anyone unless it does them a benefit to do so.
I keep trying to remember the end is the begginning, and good people go to heaven. God forgives our mistakes. I also thing with out the odor of rotting trash, a rose would never smell as sweet. The loss of my 13 yr old son Mike helped me see that more clearly. Hang in there.
Mark--you know I will.
Katie--I'm not sure if your comment was directed to Mark or CC, because I can't think of anything I've told you about either that would require deepest sympathy or an apology. Enlighten me when I see you, dahling.
If I could I would smear chocolate on my lips and give you a big fat slobery kiss and a hug. Cause they say chocolate makes things a little better. I know its a little askew from what you probly expected in terms of sympathy and compassion, but it's more interesting isn't it?
After all we're aliens it's kind of our thing. *hugs*
Sib
Yes, more interesting and made me smile. The aliens are the people who don't like chocolate--come to think of it, I've never met anyone who didn't like chocolate. Hmmm. X-file stuff.
Thank you Sib. I'll carry your wishes to the memorial service.
sorry to hear of the loss, and I know there is tremendous confusion, hate, anger, sadness, and yet sometimes there's a smile as we remember the good things, though they may not surface immediately. stay strong, you're still standing for a reason.
There was a 25 year old found dead here Friday in his car at a bar on Bowman Street. Coincidence?
Thank you GT, so much. I'm often mystified by my survival. And I had a pretty bad emotional setback due to this death in my family. But I'm getting better.
CC-I'm not sure I believe in coincidences, but there's another part of what you wrote that is odd. I'll email that part to you. I started to write a hub but got sidetracked by my own emotional instability. Luckily my husband still likes me enough that he was able to provide me with some emotional support via phone this morning. I'd better take a lot of kleenex to this memorial. I'm sure I'll have many things to write about afterwards.
C. C. Riter says:
10 months ago
How sad, I'm sorry dear. My deepest sympathy to you and yours. Beans, a metaphor for a life short lived, he couldn't kill the giant that tortured his soul and like so many other young people make the wrong choice that is so permanent. It's tragic and I'm going through a similar circumstance with one of my sons. Sometimes our love is just not enough to keep them here, they are just tortured souls and what else can I say? thanks for sharing