In the recent months, I would wonder if I was too young to ponder my own mortality. I always thought of it light-heartedly though, more of a philosophical, thinking man's type of way, rather than someone who has experienced death and the heavy emotions that can come with it. Sadly, the times for light-heartedness are past. Perceptions are completely changed when the experiences hit you in real life, when the lives of others end.
Sadly, this past week marked the end of two lives for people in my world. One I have never met, but was deeply loved and deeply close to her daughter whom I care about, and that is more than enough to make my heart heavy. The other person is a relatively young man, only a few years older than myself, who lived for many causes I also live for. He even committed himself to TAF one year, to be a counselor to the young men and women in the Junior High Program. Perhaps those JH campers and others he was a counselor to, will be the children he leaves behind. And I'll take solace believing in the fact that both people made positive impressions during their time here on earth, despite both being taken before we would expect.
Most likely, I've been too young and too naive thinking that I can contemplate death. I have been watching the new Ken Burns film on PBS called "The War". The stories, mostly of sacrifice during World War II, combined with recent events, does not exactly cause me to appreciate more (though I should), but more so just feel ridiculously lucky. Lucky to be healthy, to be able to laugh, to talk to friends every day, to buy an ipod, and to pretend that I can freely think about things like mortality.
Still though, it seems we are to live not be afraid of death, but to celebrate instead. But it is a lot easier to say when death has not come around you. But what else can we do? In the seemingly infinite sadness that we may feel, life goes on, right? It does, eventually. But for now we pause and reflect. We comfort those we care for and we try to let our hearts go out to them. We give our moments of silence to simply stop and pay our tributes of respect. And I seal the memories in my heart and mind of those who are no longer here, thankful for what they've done with their time and how they have affected my being, even if in the smallest of ways.
RIP Mrs. Kiang, mother to Michelle.
RIP Keimay Yang, JH counselor, TAF 2004.
Before Traci and I left tonight, I asked her if I should bring a camera. We both figured no, since we've been here and done that, and while its okay that I didn't, I would still like to remember this night.
Augustana gets better every time I see them. Jack's Mannequin, and therefore Andrew McMahon, is actually quite good live, can sing, and rocks it out on the piano. I've never been a big Dashboard fan so Chris Carrabba's set was only meh for me. But yea. Augustana great. I look forward to their new upcoming album very much. And I'm gonna wanna listen to more of Jack. And hey, partying with rock stars is always fun too right?
But in the end, the reason I want to remember this night is because I witnessed a lot of creativity, a lot of art, and a lot of talent, in front of my eyes and through my ears. I guess a camera still wouldn't have really mattered then.
What a great sporting weekend it was for me. The Cubs clinched a playoff spot, Illinois upset Penn St., I got to play my first organized game of baseball with live pitching in ten years (damn that's a lot longer than I thought), and I won my fantasy baseball league.
The fantasy baseball victory is perhaps the most impressive, if you knew baseball and knew my team (not that great on paper) and the three teams I beat in the playoffs (ridiculously good on paper).
But in the end, my small-ball style of fantasy baseball won out in the end. Hooray hooray hooray!