Slowing to Look
Rode up the Devil’s Backbone yesterday on the way to a friend’s house in Gruene. Got stopped at the top by a gathering of sheriff’s vehicles with lights flashing. There was an ambulance and a fire truck, too. We drove by, slowly, looking. Elephants on the Serengeti sniffing the skulls of the dead. Nothing much to see at that point. No real indication of what just happened.
As I drove by, I got to thinking how all those lights marked a turning point for someone, or maybe even the end. It’s nice to have your final day on earth marked by a gathering of neighbors with all their lights flashing, saying, in effect, this is a big deal and we’re here. I used to get petty about people slowing to look. Now I’m more aware of the humanity involved and realize slowing and looking is something like a sign of respect, an acknowledgement.
The end is my new fascination. Not because mine is imminent, except for the inescapable fact of my age which means the size of my sandbox is shrinking, and at some point, will shrink to nothing and disappear, it’s just that one neighbor had a double mastectomy, my other neighbor has a brain tumor, and I’m still dealing with my wife’s passing. So, signs of mortality have me surrounded, and I have to look and think. I guess, in the hope, that looking, and thinking will somehow inform me on how best to manage my diminishing time. Here’s hoping I discover something useful.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale