wandering

Went to my first funeral/celebration of life ceremony in a while. It was for someone, who I guess could be called an acquaintance, that was at end of life with parkinson's for a while. It's amazing how suddenly a person is in the world and then gone. There's a sense of unreality and whiplash to it. An abrupt need to adjust to a new framework in which someone who was once alive is now dead. Disorienting in unexpected moments.

This is a man who truly had a full and fascinating life, with the kind of tragedy and adventure that you read about in stories. All of this happened before I knew him and was only accessible to me through photos and stories. Most of my living memories involve seeing him lying in bed or wandering around while I was staying as a guest. I would give a light wave when we'd pass each other and he'd occasionally give one back, sometimes with a blank face and sometimes with a bright grin. I enjoyed this simplicity in our dynamic, especially considering what an imposing figure he'd apparently been.

There was one day when I passed him in the hall just as he was taking a shit on the floor. I think my very first reaction was surprise at the consistency of it (lol) followed by trying to decide how best to respond to the situation. He didn't seem distressed so I opted with prioritizing his dignity and comfort and finding someone he was more familiar with. They found him before I found them though and after giving them some privacy, I headed back since my room was in the same hallway. As I did I noticed some final efforts to subtly cover up that a mess had happened, I assumed out of concern that I'd be put off. I wasn't bothered though, to me it was just an unexpected, amusing and totally innocent moment. The whole scene looked surprisingly natural in a way, I suppose because there wasn't any self consciousness since he didn't seem to be aware of himself. What little embarrassment I felt was only from empathizing with their potential embarrassment.

I found it interesting that out of all the rest of it, that was the part of his life that I encountered. All the amazing stories and photos were remnants of a person who, for the most part, was no longer there. All that was left of that person appeared before me as a frail body with the bare minimum of awareness and motor control.

Contrary to my initial expectations, I found him to be more serene than pitiful. Just a far less dynamic and energized human than average, with all the baggage and ego stripped away. A simple being, wandering around without knowing who or where he was much of the time. And yet, being clothed, cared for and waved to by these strange beings around him, all held up by these strange floors under strange feet in this strange place. Wandering this mysterious void, as we all are, only stripped of all the ideas of who, what, when, where or why. Just passing through while being looked after and engaged with along the way. The thought returns to me often.

Is he wandering somewhere new now? As someone new? In a new body? Or has everything that composed what could be called "him" dissolved into the ether, to be recycled into something I couldn't even begin to imagine?

It's probably a good thing I'm not giving any eulogies. Shitting and wandering...