As We Lay Dying (Okay Faulkner, I'm Allowed to Iterate)

Forgive me, everyone, when I make obscure literary references, as with the title of this post. This is the side of me only those who have connected with me in the realm of fiction will appreciate.  Although I have been a journalist in my career, I am a fiction writer in spirit. That's because I believe a much higher degree of truth can emerge through fiction than non-fiction.

Meanwhile, my computer is operating so slowly I assumed it was age and too many files, probably photos that were responsible.

So I started sorting through my many, many photos, to see what to save, what to delete, what to transfer to a disk.

In the process I found these precious old photos.

The little curly-red-haired guy is the tallest in our family now, and perhaps still growing. Standing next to him yesterday, I felt rather short. He is applying to colleges.

The little girl in the robe is a shade under 5'8", if our measurements yesterday are accurate.

Tonight two of my birthday gifts for her finally arrived (she just turned 15). I do not feel very well tonight, or I would run them over to Bernal for her.

I suppose they will hold for tomorrow. She is probably mad at me but I think it's best I stay put right now, as I'm coming down with something, I think.

***

Sometimes, I wonder a lot about the idea of what will hold for tomorrow.

All of us put off things, including communications, for various reasons. We put off writing our wills, for example, because we do not want to confront the obvious.

We put off saying things to each other for all sorts of reasons.

For the past two weeks, I've been involved in exactly this dialogue with myself due to Raul's illness. What should I say and what should I not say? Who should I tell about what I see?

Maybe I erred on the side of telling too much to too many people. He indicated that to me last Thursday night, and his words cut me to the bone.

Dying people do not mince words. Had I betrayed my friend?

I hope not. When I got back there with him a week ago Sunday, Lowell was there. Lowell wouldn't have been there had I not alerted him that Wednesday night. Nor would the Sewing Circle, which showed up, a small group of Raul's oldest and truest friends.

But then I thought about privacy. Who among us wants to be seen in our dying state?

***

When I think back over my own life, I feel clear who has indicated to me they've loved and appreciated me and also who has not done so.

Even though he was mad at me for sharing his condition with others, Raul also noticed the patterns in people's messages -- that they appreciated how he's affected them -- and that that mattered.

That matters to all of us, because one way or another, tonight, we all lay down dying.

Goodnight.

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