Carletta keeps saying things about immortality. She's a funny girl. What an imagination! She asked me what I would do if I could live forever. The first answer I thought of had come to me because of the movie "Death Becomes Her." So I decided to watch the film with her, as she had not seen it. When she arrived at my house I introduced my parents, and she asked if I had any siblings. Mom still has a hard time dealing with my sister's loss, so Mom left the room and I told Carletta my little sister died as a baby and they never tried to have any other kids because they were afraid of such complications happening again.
It was an interesting time watching the movie. Afterwards I took her into my room to introduce her to my pet iguana, but she was too busy looking at my wrestling trophies to pay attention at first. When I asked her why my success in the sport was so important to her, she said, "A girl needs to know she has somebody who can protect her if needed."
I felt warm all over. I hugged her as tightly as I could with a 3-foot iguana clinging to my chest, and I told her I would do that.
After she left, Mom went into an asthma attack. I worry about her so badly. Just thinking about the death of my sister sets her off and can start an attack. And when she had a really bad one her lung collapsed and I was afraid she would die. It could happen again and this time it could be fatal, I think.
I was also thinking about the recent deaths in our town. First Boyd Freeman, star football player, and then that little toddler who disappeared from his own back yard and was later found dead in a lake.
Why does everybody have to die?
Why does anybody have to die?
A lot of people say death is just a part of life, and I like to believe that. Movies like "Death Becomes Her" remind me that a life well lived doesn't have to be forever. But something just seems unnatural about death, especially when it's unexpected. Now I wonder. Should I expect it?
I'm in such a black mood tonight. I went to my room and wrote this poem:
SNIPER
Pot-shot-
sister barely got
a chance!
Aims at
my mother's lungs.
I look up,
Where is he?
Why must he?
College boy,
Neighbor boy,
gone suddenly.
How?
I'm shaking.
Next shot me?
On line we're all ducks
at the shoot-
ing gallery.
The poem expresses how I feel but it doesn't release me to feel any better. I pounded the wall afterward. And now I can't sleep . . .
 Hugh Gaines · Thu Feb 17, 2005 @ 08:20pm · 0 Comments |
