So me and the wife started watching Six Feet Under again. We have tons of other shows to watch, but since Netflix auto-suggested that half of Generation X stream it, we found ourselves part of that half.
Mostly, it holds up. So far, we’re only up to Season 2 and it is good to see the Fishers again. I don’t know how well show creator Alan Ball handles his female characters, though-Brenda and Claire are drawn with crayon instead of typeset. They’re pretty annoying.
But anyway, this show’s on my mind and the title of this post just kind of made sense, like when Nate is faced with his own death or when his father comes back to mess with his head like he does with all the Fishers.
Most people in the show die quickly. And isn’t that what we want?
I have decided as I near my 52nd birthday that death itself no longer scares me (I started this blog around 38). What would scare me is too long a life without my faculties, or that I’d take too long to die be it by natural causes or something else. The next death I will probably be dealing with is my eldest cat Tess and she makes her way through her fourteenth year with us. I’ve never had a cat this long.
Does a cat “know” when it is dying? I think every sentient being does. I don’t know why I or any of you other monkeys fixate on it. It’s coming. Prepare. Or don’t, keep living life one day at a time and put one foot in front of the other until you get tired of it. Rest then, and then prepare to experience dying. What a head trip. I am going to crack a lot of jokes, hopefully. But I believe it is a process, one where you give away what I’ll just call a spirit for lack of a better word. Once you have traded that in, it won’t be long. Hopefully you just get tired for the last time. Hopefully you don’t struggle for more breath while no one’s around.
I needed to break in a new pen. My 50s are weird so far, with this strange acceptance of running out of time but not really being full of anxiety about it. I still have some spirit that depression hasn’t killed yet.