Death: A Love Story?

As many of you long-time readers know, it was recently my birthday. In my piece “50”, I talked about how I did not feel any different about the turnover. I did not feel like I had crossed a line. It was just another day for me – work, exercise, and the like – and I did nothing special…except have a video call with the family. They made sure that I got to see the cake that I would never taste, with the candles indicating my incredible age. My brother bothered me again about his devotion to the Toronto Maple Leafs (“This is the year!” – right…); my nephew and niece missed me; and my mother enjoyed a bit of wine. Maybe a little too much…

She revealed, as she often does, that certain people in my life are no longer here. This would be fine…if I could remember who these people are...or were.

“A older relative of yours died. He lived in ___________. Do you remember when you visited him? Do you remember our trip? You were five or six…”

I answered in the negative, of course. I had nary a clue who this person was and why I should remember him, apart from the fact that he was family. And then, there was this…

“His name was Kendall.”

They say that you can hear a pin drop when a moment becomes awkward. To have that moment over an app felt really awkward (even my brother stopped talking about his delusions for his team). “Nice one, Mom.”

Yeah, nice one…

And I did not help the situation with my comment.

“I may write about this…”

The groans were as audible as the pin’s fall, but I could not shake the idea that I had something worth the effort. And other coincidences put the topic on the table.

On the same day, I read an interesting news story…

A 49-year-old homeless man was stabbed and died downtown. It was the third stabbing in the city among the homeless in three months, and the 29th homicide in Montreal this year. I know the area quite well and there was very little about this story that surprised me.

But I did wonder about that man…

What separates me from someone in that situation? I used to commute from that part of town. I have had trouble with money and steady work. And I have had some contact with those particular societies that were less than safe.

And he was 49.

There has been very little written about the victim. The media says that he was “experiencing homelessness” (such a useless term), and the government has admitted that the homeless population in Quebec has doubled in the last four years. We still don’t have a name to put to the victim, or any of his attackers (I am guessing that this might have been done by a group).

And he was 49.

Was his birthday coming up? Was he missed by someone who may never know that they lost a son, brother, husband, uncle…or friend? I have to wonder.

Listen, I know that this is an odd thing to discuss after my birthday, but certain things happen for a reason, and there are certain symbols and coincidences that I cannot ignore. And my day is surrounded by certain deaths, like births, that stand out in my mind.

John Bonham, the great percussionist for Led Zeppelin, died the day I turned 7 years old. And in later years, Mary Astor, Edward Said, George Plimpton, and Andy Williams all passed away on the date. There are others that stand out in my mind…and I am sure that there are many others whom I have forgotten and need to review.

We all like to know what our day is connected to, whether or not it is life or death. My actual birthday took place during the Six-Day War (look that up). It was a Tuesday afternoon and apparently the weather in my hometown was lovely.

And life went on.

I think that I should be thinking of more than just loss as I consider passing half-a-century of life on this planet. We all have things that we need to deal with, and looking for more than what is there is not always healthy…

But I do think about those losses…

I would like to know more.

*

Thank you for reading!

If you liked this, you can add your Insights, Comment, leave a Heart, Tip, Pledge, or Subscribe. I will appreciate any support you have shown for my work.

You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Kendall Defoe on my Vocal profile. I complain, argue, provoke and create...just like everybody else.

Give it a look...