My employment at a continuing care retirement community offers an almost too close for comfort view of the inevitable future we all face, for those fate deems should be allowed to grow old anyways. On a daily basis I bear witness to the inexorable cognitive and physical decline that will claim all if given the chance.
Each of us deals with this intransigent, harsh mortality in different ways. Some deny and hide while others stand fast with dignity and grace. I've often been accused of rushing headlong into death because of my fondness for operating motorcycles at a rapid rate, but this is wrong. My wish is not to die, but to stay one step ahead of Death for as long as I can, or at the very least to run beside it making obscene hand gestures, knowing full well I can't win. Gravity will see to that.
And when my flesh finally fails and Death seizes its worn out prize, I can take satisfaction in the fact that I ran. The whole way. Like Hell.
|There is always something coming for you. In this case, it's just Joe.|