May. 7th, 2008

clappamungus: (Default)
Jesus. This is so sad.

I can't imagine being so alone that no one would notice that I'm gone. Or that my body would remain in the same place for up to a year.

The same thing happened to Layne Staley, the ex-singer of Alice in Chains. He was much younger, though. He systematically destroyed himself with smack and coke, until he died of an overdose in 2002. His body remained undiscovered in his apartment for two weeks. He was younger, so you could make the argument that it was more tragic than old people remaining undiscovered in their homes.

I don't think so, though. There's something really quite crushingly horrible about the thought of being at that age, with no one to talk to, no one who'll be concerned for you, and when your passing comes, it goes unnoticed. Unmarked. Family, friends...? These people just had no one? How lonely must these people have been? How scared? Did they know that when they died, no one would care enough to ask after them?

For some reason, this painting comes to mind:


By Dr. Jack Kevorkian (yes, Dr. Death). It's called "Nearer My God To Thee." Whatever your opinion on this man and his actions, you can't deny that he had this right: people cling to life, refuse to entertain the notion of death. It repels us. We would do anything to stop our passing, even deny its very existence. And yet, it comes for all of us. Sometimes, while you're sitting at your TV after a hard day of doing nothing, staring out of a window and contemplating your life.

...

As usual, my mind has seen a tangent and followed it blindly...

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