Yesterday, I lost my uncle. This man defied words. He defied logic. He had faced in his 79 years more adventures, more heart ache, and more life than many of us think is possible. He had cheated death more times than any one of us can fathom. A nearly indestructible person. Nearly. I’ve cheated death once and I don’t think I even understood the wonder in that as much as I should. He did. He felt he deserved the pass(es). He was right. He had a wealth of stories. That might be the most terrifying part of death. The loss of memories. Theirs. Yours. You lose a part of your past because their pieces in your memory are missing. Your recounts are only yours now. He was working on a book- maybe several. As he aged he became fragile and partially blind so their completion to me is unknown. And in the spirit of honesty, I’m not sure his goal was finish them. They would still be a valuable read missing parts and all. He and I were a lot alike. Few people are willing to roam around the streets of Cairo in the middle of the night, but in his healthier years he didn’t sleep much-neither do I-so those activities were commonplace. Not many people would find excitement to pull off of the side of the road and go impromptu hiking; we loved it. With only one arm and advanced age his physical prowess was superior to any man’s ten-fold. Two words gave him more joy than dollar store; he’d light up at the sight-every time. My uncle was brilliant. That unique kind of brilliance that is hard to understand, but not hard to be in awe of or take advantage of. It was always a bragging right to mention his credentials to others, as if you had a secret weapon that was on YOUR side. He loved math and valued education more than anyone. Actually, what I think he loved was making the seemingly impossible possible. It’s hard to do in global terms, but advanced (insane/crazy) maths, and theory is a great start to showing the world what can be done. Of course there were flaws, but flaws in us all are funny things. They, with our mistakes, seem to just bundle themselves into our future goods and amends. They are not worth remembering on their own.
I’ve experienced death before through younger eyes. It was not the same. The shock of finality was always too much. I saw no reason or peace in it. I lacked understanding as many young people do because that kind of understanding is found through experience. As an adult there’s a nagging notion that there’s something to be learned in the moments of death. What’s the take away in loss overall? What can we learn from the person we just lost? It goes beyond the cliche’ of ‘make the most of your time on Earth’ or to make sure your loved ones and various relations know their place and value in your life-good and bad. It’s something past forgiveness and even further past divinity. There’s something untouchable and impossible to understand while we are living. You can feel it, but you cannot identify it. Maybe it’s the primal instinct of death. The one thing we all know how to do without practice or knowledge; the one thing we will all do. It’s the one thing we cannot change no matter our efforts. There is no running from it, as running is useless and exhausting. We do ourselves such a disservice trying so hard to erase the humanity in death. What I saw in death yesterday in witnessing grief, love, anger, pettiness, sadness, indifference, was possibly the only time you get to experience what it is to be human all at once. Every emotion and unique human experience comes out together as a whole. That is the beauty in an end.
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