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#258 - c & h & death
02/18/02 @ 10:43 am

Calvin & Hobbes are walking along in the woods when they spot a baby racoon, broken on the side of the road. Calvin tells Hobbes to protect it as he goes to get his mom. Hobbes asks if his mom will be able to fix it. Calvin answers that you don't get to be a Mom without knowing how to fix things just right.

Calvin arrives on the scene with his mom. Mom sends Calvin off for a shoebox & a clean towel. Alone with Hobbes, she tells him she doesn't think the little guy will make it. Then she turns to him and says that you can tell that she's really upset when she's talking to *him*, a stuffed tiger.

Back home, they don't know what to do, so they put the little guy in the garage to keep him warm for the night, wrapped in the towel in the shoe box. Calvin stands watch over the guy. He tells him this better not all be for nothing, because they just met, and it wouldn't be fair to break his heart already.

The next morning, Calvin races to his dad to ask if he checked on the little racoon yet. His dad says he's sorry, but the racoon died over night. Calvin wails and wails. His dad hugs him, tells him that at least the little guy spent a night warm and comfy before he died, instead of out in the cold. Calvin says he knows, he's just crying because although the racoon is dead out there, he's not dead in here.

I came across this when I was bored yesterday. I was tired of having nothing to do, as my husband and his sister sat side by side on separate computers, trying to find flights to Chicago. Their grandfather died yesterday morning. We're trying to find a way to Chicago for Thursday's funeral without breaking the bank.

And I ran across Calvin & Hobbes talking about death. I'd never seen that set of strips before. It was very sweet. It was very comforting. I wanted to show it to Sweetie, but finally decided against it. I don't think he's quite ready for comforting thoughts yet. He's still at the comforting hugs only stage.

So yesterday was very, very odd. Thinking about a man I knew and liked, and what it means that he's dead now. How odd it is that he's gone. How strange that I'm part of the family, and there wasn't even a hesitation: I'm going to the funeral. But I did not grow up with this man as grandfather, so despite my feelings, there weren't tears. And then there were. He was a very, very sweet man. His grandchildren adored him. And the newest, born on Christmas day, was never introduced. That was going to happen in 2-3 weeks over spring break. He never got to meet his youngest daughter's first child. My sister-in-law was going to go to, and bring her step-children. They'll never fully know what it's like to be accepted into this family, now that one of them is gone. They have us, and our love, but this man and his love of children, that's gone now.

And, of course, it's impossible not to think of my grandfather. How their grandmother is blaming herself for not being there when he died. How I said a little prayer at how lucky she is. Watching my grandfather's final moments was a nightmare I will never forget. They think he died in his sleep peacefully though, so that's good.

Then it made me think of my grandmother. That was the hardest. I went to a church and prayed there for the last time in my life. I wanted some comfort so desperately. The place was so much colder than I had remembered. God seemed even more silent than usual. I left disgusted.

And distraught. Why was my grandmother worse than my grandfather? Why was their grandfather easier than mine? But 9/11 so hard? My mind started thinking. Maybe, if you don't know them, you have to divide the person into 100. If my grandmother caused my most intense grief, then one person I don't know dying tragically will cause 1/100th of the grief. But so many people died, thousands, on 9/11. It's like an entire section of your family dying. So what would happen if war broke out, and half the country died? Or something horrible happened, and half the planet was wiped out? Would you just go mad from grief, and cease to function.

I was very tired and hungry on the way home, thinking these thoughts. I decided they weren't good for me and tried to doze in the car. Death is a hard thing to put aside though. Instead I wondered about putting together a collection of dead grandparents photos. I wondered if we should pack a picture of the grandparents together. We have 2 from the wedding. One with 3 of his surviving grandparents, one of just the couple who have just been divided. I wondered if we brought the one of the 3 of them, if that would make people sad, thinking about it just being a matter of time before the other 2 leave us. How would they see the picture I pack anyway? Maybe there should be a collection of our favorite photos at the funeral??

Again, I tried to turn my mind off. I thought about how thirsty I was. We went to the store and bought snacks. I called my sister and told us she could stay with us. We watched the ice dancing. We watched The Practice. We went to bed. In bed we talked about gambling in Vegas. We come back from the funeral Sunday, and leave for Vegas Tuesday. Weird. We finally turned off the light and went to sleep.

And I had the most fascinating dreams. About war. And being a gay Ewan McGregor. I can't decide if I like Ewan McGregor better straight or gay. He's so damn fine, and for some reason gay sex gets me hot. Go figure.

Ewan was a gay teenager not much loved by his parents or in school. And then he went to war. And then I was Ewan. And we were sent into some hopeless mission in a house. And the people we were fighting were aliens who had much more advanced weapons, while we were stuck with WWII technology. And clothes. At some ponit we were fighting Nazis who became aliens. Aliens who took over part of the house we were occupying, so when I ran out of ammo, I had to go up there without any weapons to get more. But my husband set me up with an alien gun. so much for advanced technology. You pushed the bullets into place with toothpicks. The whole thing was held together with a pair of plyers. As I tried to get the plyers into place, the bullets on the ends of toothpicks would slide out of place, and I'd have to start over again.

I kept waiting for us to get blown up. One of those movie dreams, where you know the ending, and you're waiting for it to happen. And then it got really damn weird, with angels bringing people back to life. And then I was an angel and I had the power to do the ceremony to bring someone back to life. But I was sad. Because I was separated by death from the man I loved. And all the things we'd shared back home before the war were gone. Maybe they were silly, naive, adolescent promises, to get married right out of high school without even thinking about the rest of your life and plans. But we were excited and happy and in love. And somehow bringing Ben Affleck back from the dead might be able to fix all of this.

And then I woke up.

Death sucks.

PS: my favorite Sarah McLachlan song is "Fear". The original has so much passion. But the live version, the beginning reminds me of angels singing. I detest the whole Angels phenomenon going on over the past few years. Anti-religious person that I am. So it's strange that they figure so prominently into my dreams and my thoughts this morning.

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