When celebrities die young it becomes the biggest story in the news cycle. I hate this kind of stuff, in part because I hate most main stream celebrities. The people I love are the ones that kill themselves, and none of these pop acts have enough soul to mourn anything enough to do that.
Still, reading the news that Kobe Bryant was dead was surreal. He was only 41, the picture of health, rich beyond one could ever hope for, smart, charming, and determined. He seemed to have it all. A helicopter crashes and its all gone. It’s hard for the brain compute.
I have a strange relationship with my own mortality. Dying the way he did would upset me, of course I’d be too dead to be upset, but I fear it, and I’m not sure why. I think about suicide often and really have no issue romanticizing it. I think suicide is beautiful and powerful and the last cry of an unheard soul. But suicide at least grants the dying an element of control over death. This is not the case when dying in an accident or of illness.
Even an illness has something comforting to it. The opportunity to accept and conquer death. A sudden death does not offer such opportunities.
Remembering that you will die, that you are mortal, is worth putting into perspective. But it can go both ways; it gives meaning to the limited days we have on earth but also, what the fuck does it all matter when its all said and done? Live for today or live for history? I want to live on in memory far more than I want to be happy today. I struggle with this. But it gives me strength; it’s why I’m willing to sacrifice almost everything for principle alone.
An animal lives for the moment but man must be more. I long for him to be more. We, the artists of the animal kingdom, must have a great story and be remembered by it. Yet so few of us accomplish this and seemingly, most people don’t feel the same as I do.
All the same, whether romantic as I, or living in the moment and being happy, remember you will die.