March 21, 2013
I just asked someone to say "hello" for me to someone who is dying.
Passing along that I'm thinking of them was too formal and "get well soon" doesn't apply. There might not be time to send a card or the like. But that also seems a strange thing to do.
As finite and bizarre as that suddenly felt to me, imagine how it feels for them. No matter your powers of empathy, a part of that feeling remains denied to the lively: likely until you arrive there yourself, personally.
All of you -- us -- despite the cross-generational age gamut we run, are still young enough to have at least some of the illusion of invincibility still hanging about us; a sunny mist, a faint blurring of reality, a subtle coping mechanism. My grandpa still views my mom as a young one and has recently informed me that I'm forever a teenybopper-kid from where he stands.
And if whales and redwoods and giant tortoises were intelligent, surely they too would tease us of our youth in comparison.
And what of turritopsis nutricula, the immortal jellyfish?
The potential of forever.
But then, for a moment, the sun burns off the fog and the finality blinds--
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