When Words Fail
Celebrating the lives, the extraordinariness, the exceptionalism, the courage and the very humanity of the dearly departed seems to exact its toll from those who were the closest, those with the most intimate connections to the deceased. It is absurd the lengths to which people will go to memorialize surface traits of character and personality, likes and dislikes, and extol the most extraneous episodes in an effort to express their grief.
Individuals whose antic behaviours have somehow led to their deaths, by driving while under the influence of alcohol, by surrendering to rash and impulsive acting out that results in death by misadventure. And those, needless to say, whose lives were spent in exaggerated celebration of themselves, driving other people insane by their miserable behaviour. And then, of course, there are those who die in service of one kind or another, to others.
From the young adult who indulges in the sport of high-diving off a cliff, and never surfaces from his watery grave; he won the contest for boldness of spirit and having ascended the furthest - to the driver who just couldn't resist taking the challenge to race the other one whose souped-up vehicle couldn't conceivably be as fast on the pick-up as his own, and who managed to take the life of another driver in the oncoming lane, along with his own.
It was their high-spiritedness, their love of organized sports, their wide circle of partying friends, the fun they sought in life that set them apart, in their great enthusiasm to live as though there was little else to life but partying; life in the fast lane with all that connotes. They lived for their friends, we hear, and also, in the end, died for their friends.
To the beautiful young woman who was a medic in the armed forces and who met her inglorious end along with a partner in the profession through the atrocious blast that rent their bodies into pieces resulting from an improvised explosive device laid with the connivance of local tribal people and the equally-local Taliban, they all seem to end with eulogies that are sadly wanting.
Much too much is made of their spirited love of partying. Their sense of fun and enjoyment of guzzling liquor, enabling them to present as the life of the party. How about their near and dear companionship? The sensitivity of their sensibilities? Their love of life itself and the people who made life so dear to them? Their appreciation of the natural world around them?
"Humorous" anecdotes are related during the course of the funeral ceremonies. They're more often not all that humorous, but represent the feeble effort of a trite and feeble mind that cannot conceive of the deep value of the relationship that is now lost. And then someone manages to save the day by saying "I'm trying to remember one day when Kristal wasn't smiling. I can't remember one."
This captures the essence of a particular human soul, not the glib and meaningless referrals to partying. Something wrong with our collective value system in human relations?
Individuals whose antic behaviours have somehow led to their deaths, by driving while under the influence of alcohol, by surrendering to rash and impulsive acting out that results in death by misadventure. And those, needless to say, whose lives were spent in exaggerated celebration of themselves, driving other people insane by their miserable behaviour. And then, of course, there are those who die in service of one kind or another, to others.
From the young adult who indulges in the sport of high-diving off a cliff, and never surfaces from his watery grave; he won the contest for boldness of spirit and having ascended the furthest - to the driver who just couldn't resist taking the challenge to race the other one whose souped-up vehicle couldn't conceivably be as fast on the pick-up as his own, and who managed to take the life of another driver in the oncoming lane, along with his own.
It was their high-spiritedness, their love of organized sports, their wide circle of partying friends, the fun they sought in life that set them apart, in their great enthusiasm to live as though there was little else to life but partying; life in the fast lane with all that connotes. They lived for their friends, we hear, and also, in the end, died for their friends.
To the beautiful young woman who was a medic in the armed forces and who met her inglorious end along with a partner in the profession through the atrocious blast that rent their bodies into pieces resulting from an improvised explosive device laid with the connivance of local tribal people and the equally-local Taliban, they all seem to end with eulogies that are sadly wanting.
Much too much is made of their spirited love of partying. Their sense of fun and enjoyment of guzzling liquor, enabling them to present as the life of the party. How about their near and dear companionship? The sensitivity of their sensibilities? Their love of life itself and the people who made life so dear to them? Their appreciation of the natural world around them?
"Humorous" anecdotes are related during the course of the funeral ceremonies. They're more often not all that humorous, but represent the feeble effort of a trite and feeble mind that cannot conceive of the deep value of the relationship that is now lost. And then someone manages to save the day by saying "I'm trying to remember one day when Kristal wasn't smiling. I can't remember one."
This captures the essence of a particular human soul, not the glib and meaningless referrals to partying. Something wrong with our collective value system in human relations?
Labels: Human Relations, Whoops
posted by Pieface @ 6:09 PM
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