Once again I’m going to write about death. If there is a subtext to what I’m actually
writing about, it’s contentment, but I have to phrase it around the concept of
death. Or the reality of death. Still, I don’t know how to write about it and
what I want to say without this all sounding like a suicide note – which it’s
not. If I haven’t lost you already,
hopefully you’ll continue reading.
Saturday afternoon I was content to die. What I meant is that, standing in my back
yard in mid 80 degree weather, warm breezes, blue tarps drying on the brown
dead grass behind me, garden freshly watered and a few more hours of work ahead
of me unpacking my camping stuff – I had a clairvoyant moment of
contentment. Looking at the trees in the
distance I thought: “If I died now, I’d
be happy with what I’ve accomplished.”
Why this sudden moment of death contentment? Well, part of it is that “Rowdy” Roddy Piper –
a larger than life character from my wrestling soap opera had recently died in
his sleep of a heart attack. Isn’t that
how we all want to go? (Hopefully they
won’t find tons of cocaine or meth in his system or gigs of child porn on his
computer.) He was only 61 – eleven years
older than me. When I was a kid he
seemed so much OLDER so much more of an icon so much more beyond my age and
here he was just 11 years older. That
seems so close – percentage-wise – and we all grow closer in age percentage-wise
as we continue to grow older. Case in
point: When my daughter was born I was 24
times her age – now she’s over half my age.
Where did the time go?
"Rowdy" Roddy Piper
The other reason for this moment was that I was on
the other side of our family camping trip.
Everyone was there: Friends and
family. My mother – pushing 82. My son and his new wife – seven months into
their marriage. My daughter’s boyfriend
who, I think, spent more time laughing than breathing. When he wasn’t reading, he was either feeding
animals or laughing.
As camping trips go, this was pretty spot on perfect. Went swimming every day. Had some great food. Hiked.
Relaxed. Laid in a hammock. Stared at trees. Oh, sure, there were the few bumps and bites
but having my children there (who weren’t able to come last year) reinforced
all the work and struggle it took to get them to the places in life they are now.
Lake Wenatchee
And now, at that moment, 36 hours from going back
to work, and four hours after shoving the last pillow in the crevices in the
car – I was content.
Sure, before I know it, I’ll be back to the
grind. Back to the work-a-day world, paying
bills, dealing with calendars and schedules.
Writing scripts and half-assed blogs.
Figuring out problems, giving the cat her medicine, deciding what we
should have for dinner (pizza) and wrestling with a DVR.
But for a moment I was content. I didn’t need the Oscar for best
screenplay. I didn’t need the millions
from a successful screenwriting career.
I didn’t need the fame of being a writer/producer/director. I didn’t need to be someone I’m not. I didn’t need to hide behind a façade of
stupid jokes and lame comments. I didn’t
need to be a father, husband, co-worker, friend – I was already contentedly
those things. For those fleeting moments
I was just me in my purest simplest form and if I would happen to be struck
down at that moment? I could live with
that.
