February 01, 2007
Downer Days
Hey, I know! Let's talk about death!
Earlier this week my dad emailed me the news that my driver's ed teacher was found slumped over his office desk, dead of a heart attack. I hadn't seen the guy in a decade, but isn't it true that there's nothing like an untimely and unromantic demise to make us, as creatures who thrive on personal connection, feel like we had a deep and meaningful relationship with someone who, in the grand scheme, was never more than a passing ship?
Two years ago when my dad emailed me an obituary of a classmate who was thrown from the passenger seat of a car (please please please wear your seatbelts EVERY TIME), I found myself reflecting on all the misty, watercolor mem'ries I had of this guy, Jonathan, and conveniently editing out all evidence that we weren't really friends per se and that a lot of my contact with him involved the telling of obscure nerdy genius jokes (him) and the rolling of eyes (me).
Maybe it's a coping strategy, this forced retrospective connection in the wake of tragedy. Maybe it's a way of making safe, roundabout apologies to those we didn't treat quite as well as we should have when we had a chance. Perhaps remembering the deceased through a rose-colored brain filter is just what we do when we're at a loss as to how else we should appropriately react to the death of an acquaintance. Because death makes a big deal out of everything.
Death fuels those fleeting spurts of go-get-'em, live-life-to-the-fullest manias. You know, where you are overcome with the inspiration to grab everything by the balls, so you sign up for a community college course in pottery and you call your grandma just to hear her voice and when you stalk your high school nemesis on MySpace, you think kind thoughts about her and all those good times you had, instead of mocking her stupid crunchy bangs in that stupid picture of her posed with that stupid guy from that stupid reality show, which is what you normally do. Yes, all the world is beautiful and fragile for a week and your place in the universe is crystalline, but then the sparkles fade and before you know it you're back to wasting several hours a day bemoaning commonplace tragedies like pimples and cat barf and why Gilmore Girls sucks so bad this season.
It's not been four days since I received the email about my dead driver's ed teacher, so I'm still in that swaying soft-focus hammock of existence, tender in spots, some enough to make me cry when they're touched. I think about the afternoons I stayed after school to drive the practice junker sedan around the training course at a strict 5 mph, one eye on the road, the other on the speedometer lest I get flagged down and called "leadfoot" from eking up to a terrifying 8 mph, just below breaking the sound barrier. I think about the painfully early mornings we went out for real, actual road driving, and the time I noticed I was going 82 in a 65 zone and my teacher had to use the special passenger's side brake to prevent our going back to the future in a flash of flaming skidmarks. When I finally turned sixteen, I got a score of 100 percent on my written driver's test, and I think that's why in my driving test my teacher docked me a total of one point, for parking too close to the curb (WTF?). The guy knew what his students needed: he brought the down kids up and the up kids down, and we're probably all better for it.
So I think about my driver's ed teacher, and then I think about learning to drive, and then I think about my dad taking me out to practice in his old rusty, rust-colored Bronco, waaaaaaay out in the Utah desert where I couldn't crash into anything besides sagebrush, and boy howdy, did I ever. I think about being fifteen and a half and learning to drive with my father, listening to the music he put in the tapedeck and learning to love it because I had no other choice. And I wonder if my driver's ed teacher taught his fifteen-and-a-half-year-old daughter to drive to his favorite music too. His daughter was in my high school class, actually, and--strange to behold, I didn't think of it when I wrote it before--even though I haven't stalked her on MySpace, she was as close to a high school nemesis as I ever had, and I wonder if her dad knew she couldn't stand me.
In my headspace, there is me, my dad, my high school nemesis, and her dad--my driver's ed teacher--all standing around in a cosmic circle of life and death and white knuckles on steering wheels, and I think, god, poor him, poor her, poor me. But also lucky me because my dad didn't die last week but is alive and well and sending me emails.
My dad is younger than my late driver's ed teacher (you're like, what? at least forty now, right dad?) and he's unlikely to die of a heart attack (knock on wood) because in my family we don't die suddenly but slowly, of things like cancer or living for ninety-five years. But unless he's not telling me something, he's not getting any younger, and neither is my mom or any of my grandparents, and neither, my friends, am I, which is something you already know because I talk about my age all the time like you'd expect fro someone about to turn some big, dramatic, age-bracket corner like thirty or fourty instead of the completely irrelevant age of twenty-eight. My parents are not elderly, my grandparents look good for octogenarians, my baby brother will always be my baby brother, even when he's sixty-four, and unless there's a piano about to fall from the sky onto my head, I'm still in the rising action portion of my life story--still many many many years from denouement.
But still.
I don't want my grandparents to die before I have kids to show off to them. I don't want my parents to die ever. I don't want Simon to die on the way home from work tomorrow or in twenty years or at least until I've tired of gazing into his chocolatey-brown eyes. I've had this thought so many times before (obsess much?) that we've actually discussed whether I would rather have his child and raise it alone or lose him but be childless and free and unfettered, able to move on with my life without the shadow of another man following me around in toddler form as I attempt to forge a successful romantic realtionship in the wake of The One and Only. Yes, I've thought about it a lot and decided I'd rather have his kid alone instead of not at all. Isn't that something? Of course, most of all I'd like to have his kid(s) and him too.
I know this is all rather morbid, especially since aside from my high school driver's ed teacher, no one is dead, least of all me. But it's true what they say, that death inevitably makes us reexamine life. That sometimes it takes the death of a person you know--even an acquaintance you haven't seen in ten years--to shake you up and make you DO something with yourself and follow your dreams instead of the just the guy in front of you, even if only during that week when the shock is still sharp. And if death makes us think about life and living, then why shouldn't we think about birth and birthing? I do. I am. I'm sorry but I can't help it.
Posted by Leah at February 1, 2007 11:53 AMBefore we had kids, I used to pray that if for some horrible reason Matthew were to be taken from me, that we would at least have kids FIRST. Because he is MY One and Only, and I wanted to be left with little reminders of him if anything were to happen to him. Thankfully, I still have him AND his beautiful babies :)
Posted by: Angella at February 1, 2007 12:43 PMHave you been eating a bowl of Depressio-s each morning?
Posted by: will at February 1, 2007 01:16 PMMy Mum used to pray that if one of them had to go before the other, it would be her & after we were old enough take care of ourselves so Dad could handle three daughters growing up on his own. I remember her telling me that and that being the moment it dawned on me that it wasn't guaranteed that my parents would live forever. As fate (or whatever the hell it is that decides to mess with your life for no apparent reason) had it, it was the other way around...two of us were grown up and the littlest one wasn't...and having seen the result first hand I just know that when we have kids I'm going to end up praying the exact same thing.
Posted by: Tan at February 1, 2007 01:26 PMI have the exact same morbid thoughts whenever someone dies. And those thoughts have really taken on epic proportions, since being prego. (Discussions about wills, and guardians and life insurance will do that to you.) I don't think they are necessarily a bad thing though, since it really makes you appreciate what you have.
Posted by: lainey at February 1, 2007 01:28 PMFirst of all, I completely identified with your post down below. Second, my father like many South Asian males has cholesterol/type II diabetes issues even though he looks like a fucking soccer player (very thin, fit and wiry). Now he's on Lipitor. He's already significantly older than his father when my grandfather passed away (before I was born). It terrifies me and it's partially why I agreed to let my parents pseudo-arrange my marriage (I was sort of ready for that anyway) and am going to move back to the east coast by the end of this year.
It's a completely natural feeling. Either that or we're riding the same boat Crazy, so you've got company.
Posted by: monkey at February 1, 2007 01:28 PMSo propose!
Posted by: gimmy at February 1, 2007 02:21 PMI won't do it until I'm sure he'll say yes. Isn't that the saddest thing you've ever heard?
Anyway, things are more complicated than they look. Not so much with us as with outside things.
Posted by: Leah at February 1, 2007 02:24 PMI hear where you're coming from -- and I think it's because we are, inexorably, getting older and all this stuff becomes more heavy than when we were young and uncaring (ie, early twenties, perhaps). Sometimes I jump ahead to forty years from now and get all stressed out about how it will be, how I will be old, etc., etc. which I hate because I'm 28 now! I don't want to waste the rest of my youth worrying about things that are so far in the future! And yet, I'm not sure how we can *not* think about it. I guess there is some sort of balance, which you will find eventually, I am quite sure.
Posted by: nicole at February 1, 2007 02:47 PMI too perseverate on death after someone dies, close to me, far from me, on ER, whatever. My own mortality and the mortality of the ones I love pressed on my mind a little too often. Makes me want to tear Mark away from stupid internet poker and come and snuggle.
Posted by: jenB at February 1, 2007 05:35 PMI don't like to think aout dying because I have an overactive imagination, however, I also had a not-really-my-friend-but-I-knew-her "friend" die really young last month. It's incrdible how we dredge up a relationship isn't it? I'm sorry for the loss of that teacher but glad that you have the chance to reflect on the incredibleness of the things that you still have (family, Simon, health, you know...). Enjoy them!
Posted by: Elizabeth at February 1, 2007 05:48 PMugh. i think these same thoughts all the time. and it's actually much worse now that i'm married. the marriage part makes the death part seem all the more scary. i hate it. ugh (again). i'm also of the camp who'd rather have his babies, though, than no babies AND no him.
Posted by: lindsey at February 1, 2007 06:45 PMI'm with Gimmy - "So propose!"
What on earth can be so complicated as to get in the way of such a thing? As for being sure he'd say yes... well, he reacted quite favorably to the the "baby scare" business, jo? Aw, hell, go for it!
Then again, understanding that I'm only reading about this on a blog, so it might not be so easy, but... ya know... all the talk about dying... what if something happened tomorrow - would you regret not just going for it?
Posted by: Nikki at February 2, 2007 03:32 AMOh Leah,
I don't usually post to these things. But so much of what you are saying reminds me of a really hard time that I went through a few years ago, that I felt it would be irresponsible not to comment. I don't mean to judge, I just really want to encourage you to look at those things, those external things you are calling "complicated", and search your heart and soul and make sure they are, in fact, external. And then, truly consider whether they are complications or just excuses.
I say this only because I suffered for several years with the burning hope of marrying someone I considered to be my One and Only. Patiently waiting for all the "complications" to be resolved. They didn't (and they often don't). Sometimes the most important thing about the "right relationship" is timing.
Also, please look at why you think you are the "perpetual girlfriend". I assure you, it has little to do with your suitability as a partner. Maybe you are just picking the wrong ones, instead of the ones who share your same values, goals and life schedule.
The up-side to this story is that I am no longer with that “One and Only”, though not by my doing. Although it was deeply heartbreaking, I can now call it an upside because he really did me a favor. It wasn’t until I had some time and distance that I was able to realize that those external complications were just excuses. I was just too afraid of losing him to admit it. If two people love each other and have been dating a reasonable amount of time, nothing should stand in the way. A strong relationship is one that is only strengthened by external stresses.
Now I am in a lovely relationship with a man who not only loves the prospect of getting married, but brings it up regularly. When I am ready, it will happen. And I can’t tell you how nice it feels to finally be in a situation where the shoe is on the other foot.
I am sorry if I sound preachy, I just don’t want you to waste your precious years not getting what you want.
I'm seven years into my relationship and my Granny is ready to march me down the aisle by force! But it's such a personal thing and only you (two) know what is right.
Death does put things hugely into perspective. And deaths which are not too close to home allow us to learn and think about stuff, without the massive pain of losing someone close. So, without meaning to be cheesy, that is a gift that this person has given you.
Posted by: Bokker at February 2, 2007 07:59 AMYersinia--Thanks for the advice, but trust me, you really really don't know the whole story. There really are external complications and I really can't talk about them on the internet. And I also know what it means to hold out on the wrong person for too long, and I know that that's not what's going on here. Check the archives and learn all about the guy I dated for almost seven years, lived with, and then was engaged to before we broke up because I realized he was never going to commit. My current relationship has undergone much more scrutiny than a relationship should probably ever be subjected to, so I actually do know what I'm talking about and where we all stand in it. But, seriously, thanks for sharing your story.
Posted by: Leah at February 2, 2007 10:28 AM"My dad is younger than my late driver's ed teacher (you're like, what? at least forty now, right dad?)"
Ya, let's do the math. You're almost 28 ... minus 40 ... equals 12. Your mother is one year younger than I ... she would have been 11 when you were born. Ya, that's about right. NOT (That's why Utah has such large families. We start young.)
And, I found "The One and Only" reference particularly interesting since it was the title of the last DVD I viewed. Interesting because the DVD is a concert by Jerry Jeff Walker, who was most likely the artist you HAD to listen to while learning to drive.
Posted by: Ted at February 2, 2007 11:02 AMIt WAS Jerry Jeff Walker. The Navajo Rug album if I'm not mistaken. And of course I already liked it a little; I'm not afraid of a little creative nonfiction...
Posted by: Leah at February 2, 2007 11:06 AMWe move on back to the mundane because that's what we're meant to do. If life was all about death, or living life to the fullest, we'd be too busy bungee-jumping to smell the roses.
Posted by: Texas T-bone at February 2, 2007 02:05 PM
