One of the days for the dead is here. Let's see, the others are Halloween, Veteran's Day (to a certain extent), and what else? I guess that's it. Aren't there like two Veteran's Days, one in November and one some other time?
I always have to remind myself about Memorial Day. It's for all the dead, even though sometimes you see things associated with it having to do with veterans, military dead. I think it started out that, and then the other more generalized dead started begging attention. Now they all get one big service. The veterans over at the courthouse, the other dead tagging along, saying, "Me too."
It's OK being dead, I guess. We who are able to read at the present moment aren't dead, of course. But there was a time when we weren't here. So that probably qualifies as something. Billions of years passed just-like-that, and it was all the same to you. Now you celebrate one year anniversaries, five year anniversaries, and like that. Fortieth anniversary, Fiftieth anniversary, that's where you're in the paper, the man perhaps three feet taller than the woman, or vice versa, and your kids have a big party for you. Then it's over with, a few more years of dribbling and you're dead.
Can you picture your own death? That's an interesting exercise. Going along - huff huff, breathe, cough, spit, rattle, rattle, swab out his mouth, wet his lips, punch the morphine button, oops, need to wait two minutes, how's he doing?, keep your voice down, - no change. Somewhere in there it's psychedelic. "Go to Jesus!" a nurse counsels, not exactly her business.
Dear dad is surrounded by preachers, four preachers at his bedside, and another coming in like a football player. An apostle stops by for a visit, the request is written on a paper, the prayer is offered, the paper is torn and thrown away. The job is done -- no more need to pray -- and dad dies. Just like he should, being so sick.
It's not like you're going to survive anyway, so as you leave this mortal plane, remember, you'll always have Memorial Day!
