Death Is Relative

My Grandfather died last Month. He led a full life. He smoked like a chimney and drank copious amounts of alcohol. We were totally unaware of just how considerable the amounts were. No glass half full or half empty. In his case it was more important to just drink whatever was in it. He died at a very "respectable" age but that in no way softened the blow for my father or any of the rest of us for that matter. We didn't care that he led a full life, we didnt care that he hadn't suffered too much before passing. All we cared about was the simple fact that he was gone. Forever. No more loud interruptions at the diner table. No more outlandish stories. A void that would never be filled. Ashes to ashes - quite appropriate for a smoking chimney. We miss him but this is not a sob story. No pulling on the emotional strings to your Liver.


His death did nothing in the way of making me want to lead a healthier lifestyle, join a gym or give up the death sticks but it did get me thinking. the, noble prize winning result ? In my humble opinion we look at death in the same way we treat distant relatives...


We know they're out there. Somewhere. We respect and fear them from a distance. We try to be as open minded about it as humanly possible but at the end of the day we don't want them turning up on our doorstep uninvited without sufficient prior notice. An email will suffice. We can handle listening to other peoples horror stories. We can even come to terms with yearly updates and one or two close calls. It keeps us nimble and alert but at the end of the day theTruth is we just dont want to have anything to do with them. They are never welcome irrispective of whether we are expecting them or not.

But make no mistake they will come. They will show up, Eventually. The door bell will ring. A knock will shudder our last protective barrier off its hinges. And you can rest assured that when it does im not going to put on a brave face. Im not going to be the bigger person and be grateful for what i had. In other words i refuse to be a gracious host. I would rather go down fighting - kicking and screaming if necessary.

I couldnt care less if when i look through the peephole i am confronted with a tall bearded and suspisciously swedish looking Jew sporting Dr Scholl sandals and a white bathrobe who could easily be a long lost member of Abba. No-one is welcome. Not for now at least. Be it a muslim equivalent of Hugh hefner with his harem of virgins in tow. Or for that matter what seems like an obese , fast food guzzling man kitted up in orange who smiles at me while he rubs his belly. The door stays locked. Bolted. I choose Life.

Coming to terms with Mortality is one thing. Embracing it is a whole other ball game. No matter how often i hear that death is really a celebration of life. That we've just been promoted. Rewarded. Bumped up to business class. I just cant seem to get my head around the idea. More importantly i don't want to. I never was a VIP kind of guy. What i have realised though is that i need to get alot more mileage out of my car before driving it to the junkyard.


So before i become fertiliser in the turnip field we refer to as life.... I want to live. I want to eat, drink and smoke. I want to travel. Soak up the sun and sing in the rain. Cliched maybe, but true. I want to Make friends and enemies. I want to love and i want to loathe but most of all i want to speak my mind to avoid the general dumbing down of a whole generation... things ive all but covered over the past hour. All bar one. On the plus side i have no distant relatives.