Nobody asked me, but.... I'll accept your comments (please remain civil!)
I have to agree with you. I am much more concerned that my children had to learn at an early age that not all sick people die. My children too have watched their father decline, exponentially in the last couple of years. I feel for Mr. Pausch and his family, but it is almost an after thought. I didn't know him, I have no attachment. I applaud his spirit, but I have to keep fighting the good fight.
I think it is cause everyone deals with Death in their own way. I know when I have had relatives die... if they are older. I am really not sad... My grandfather just died about 2 wks ago... the man was 92 .. I really did not get upset... HE WAS 92! We all should be that lucky...
But I do remember when River Phoneix died... I was a little... I am not sure of the word... but I guess it was cause I was the same age at the time, and it gave me a sense of my own mortality? I don't know...
I always think of death as a personal thing... every one handles it differently... I know in most homes people do not discuss it... in my fathers house we did... it is a natural thing. He always said "you hear about someone giving birth, gore and all, but you never talk about death. "
Why is that?
Sue
First off, learn how to spell dying. Secondly, anyone who has any kind of a heart or normal emotions would be moved by what this man has had to endure. His children will never get the chance to know him and grow. That, in itself, can bring anyone to tears. He loved life and unfortunately lost his battle, as much as he tried. I feel sorry that you are so cynical.
Jughead,
I applaud you in your endeavor, and while I cannot relate to the challenges you are going through, I appreciate what is happening to you and your efforts. I know people who are afflicted with MS (one of whom, it appears, we know in common is MDM), and while I can't imagine portraying myself an expert, I know something of your struggle.
Keep up you efforts, and never let anyone get in your way!
Sue,
Thank you for your comment; you raise a very interesting question, indeed.
Andrea,
Thank you for pointing out my spelling mistakes. While I am struggling to find time to post, it should not mean I neglect proofreading. I have since corrected the post.
I cannot say I am shocked at your comment. I knew I would get under someone's skin, and while I wasn't shocked at being called cynical, I am a little put off by your suggestion I have no heart or, as you put it, lacking in normal emotions.
I have neither the time nor desire to go into detail here with you about my past, but I do believe I have given sufficient insight in my post regarding the members of my family who have faced terminal illnesses. And I grieved for them.
There are others who faced near-terminal situations that could have gone either way, but went positively. And I grieved when times were dark, and emoted profusely when things turned for the better. So maybe I have had too much experience in my heart, and my emotions are more in line for what is (or should be) considered normal in that I don't find it normal to address a grieving widow by her first name if I never met her.
I raised a question at why a large group of people could become some engrossed in the death of a person they never knew, and you took the opportunity to take a shot at me.
Maybe I do lack normal emotions whatever that may be; I won't discount it.
But in taking a shot at me, you've revealed an interesting side of yourself.
Andrea is way off-base in her comments.
I grieve in many different ways...sometimes I bawl like a baby, sometimes I quietly reflect, sometimes I rejoice (when a long-suffering friend or relative passes due to lingering illness).
I have also grieved for those whom I have never met (George Harrison, because a beautiful poet had passed). I also grieve for those who I have met(Charleton Heston), but didn't know personally.
Why? because people grieve for personal reasons. The fact the our friend here (Charlie) chooses not to grieve for someone he didn't personally know is irrelevant to whether or not he has a heart or feelings.
As a matter of fact, I lost a friend on Thursday who happened to be a Scout Leader in my son's troop. Iposted a requiem for him on my blog. Charlie read it and offered some very kind words of comfort to me. He didn't know this man. But he felt something to have been compelled to comment on our troop's loss.
Shame on you, Andrea, for thinking (with a very closed mind) that everyone must think like you. It is both selfish and condecending to believe that everyone must think, and subsequently do, as you do.
Reflect on this for a moment before you pass judgement on another persons heart.
God Bless you, Charlie, and your heart.
B.
What boring world it would be if everyone had my point of view, and thought as I do. Besides, that would mean everyone was always right!
I had to admit I was one of the people who got sucked in to the emotion of Randy's decline and death. I thought too it was rather wrong of me to be so wrapped up in his death considering:
1. I am a nurse who sees death often.
2. I had lost both parents, a grandmother and a child in the span of 4 years.
I think I can reflect upon why exactly I was so drawn to it. It was that I was amazed at the ability of Randy and his family to continue to see and create so many positives out of a horrible situation. I remember the fear that ran rampantly though my family. I remember the pain of the actual disease, and the misery of many days. I love my family, but we were mired in a sea of black desperation.
My family are all medically educated people too. People who frankly didn't find comfort in knowing what was to come.
As I look back on those years of riding the cancer rollercoaster, I am saddened about what time was squandered in an inability to enjoy the little time left. Laughter and joy had ceased for us. Those black times are stuck in my mind. I constantly regret how poorly we coped, lived, loved and treated each other.
For me, Randy showed me another way to deal. I am sure he physically suffered no less than my loved ones, but he did what he could to lessen the darkness and remind his family that there is light.
If I ever know I am going to die, I hope I can leave my loved ones more like Randy did. I hope my fear does not paralyze me. I pray I can rise above.
Bless all of us. But I thank anyone who can teach me a better way.
Searching for the light,
L
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