A good friend of mine remarked that if he caught the virus today it would likely mean isolation, and since he is in the “at risk population,” likely death in isolation. He said “You know I may never see my wife and kids again, and that would suck.”
In my earlier incarnation as a paratrooper we were intimately aware of our mortality. They took our footprints and put it in our medical records because boots tend to stay together even in spectacularly catastrophic events. As science and technology advanced, they collected DNA samples since the blood mist and chunks of goo contain your essence and we can tell who is dead, who is presumed dead and who is missing. We were encouraged to have a will and they provided free legal advice, and of course, at first my mama was the sole beneficiary. Live fast die young was not only punk lyrics but a lifestyle. I was more concerned with the thrill of the moment until condition X and then, trying to find an accomplice to have a momentary thrill.
God blessed me with a wife. He may have cursed my wife with me, you will have to ask her. The birth of our children rattled my perspective even more. Humans, guilty of only being born were dependent on my good judgment. An insane woman, but I repeat myself, hitched her wagon to me. The deaths and gruesome injuries experienced by my co-workers cemented the reality that “You know I may never see my wife and kids again, and that would suck.” The fact that I commuted to work on a motorcycle on All American Freeway and later a bicycle on Yadkin road was probably more hazardous than any of my paratrooper antics. My wife recognized the reality of my mortality and too often another fatality in the units would hammer that home.
Early on we determined to part on a good note. Even when we were angry at each other we would kiss and say “I love you” when I left for work. In the days before cell phones and the internet we would be unable to communicate for extended periods of time. Standing in line at the pay phone with 300 hundred other dudes waiting to get their 5 minute call sucked. It really sucked when you did not get through, we sing songs about Jody. Long separations, stressful lives, divorce, and death; good thing I like heavy metal. It sucked worse when you got in a fight on the phone! “Life sucks and then you die” has some ring of truth. The long lost art of hand written letters could allow people to share deep thoughts, or not. Long shifts on silent watch can allow deep thoughts, or not. The deepest thoughts are often the hardest to express and sizzle with even deeper feelings.
Reuniting often brought joy. Embrace those few precious moments before the harsh realities of daily existence intrude. When you part company with people you care about let them know you love them.
No comments:
Post a Comment