Two deaths, one accomplished, the other impending
Two deaths this week. One is accomplished: that of Rondald Reagan, who passed on last Saturday at 93 years. Alzheimer's was the topic of discussion, at least through Monday morning. How ironic that a president and former movie star, whose life has been so thoroughly documented, has for ten years remained universally accessible to all but him. What must it be like to lose all knowledge of oneself except the immediate present? I am glad that the private journal I keep is filled with clues and signs that one day may help me recognize who I was, that is, direct addresses to my future self.
An aside: how quickly the Alzheimer's issue gave way to the reverant creation of the Reagan hagiography. At least by the network and cable TV media. How bankrupt these media are today! The Times, at least, plays back the more balanced picture of a man who made government the enemy of the people and presided over the largest transfer of wealth in U.S. history, from the poor and middle classes to the wealthy. That is, the largest until W. and his crowd came to town.
The other death is one that has yet to happen. My wife and I were visiting a friend in North Carolina this past week whose breast cancer has metasticized to her spine and, now, brain. Nothing could be more apparent to me than the losing fight for life she wages, or her realization that the battle is lost. The woman I sat with this past week is a ghost compared to the woman I knew eighteen months ago. Of course, this is a time when one acknowledges (seeks out) stories of miraculously "willed" recoveries.
And now I've found a thread: two deaths, two narratives. Ways of living in the world.
I've had two friends die from cancer, one several years ago in Wilmington and the other just last week here in St. Louis. You're right--when they died they were ghosts of themselves. I think each knew her battle was lost, at least was iffy, but each kept her strength to the end. They were beautiful ghosts, if there be such things.