EPTI didn't particularly care for this guy, he was a nice man, but I had no particular affection for him; it's so strange, though, to me, the concept of death; it's like I'm unable to fully understand it. Yesterday he was, and today he is not, and that is how we all will be. I've been to, probably, five or six funerals, and seeing the lifeless body is always so odd to me. I remember them as they were--alive--and I don't fully recognize the body that's in the casket. I suppose it's because it's not the body which I get attached to, but the personality that body once carried, and now that personality is no more.
I'm not sad in the sense that I'm going to miss this man, as though he were a big part of my life (not like my grandmother was, or my great-grandmother, both of whom I knew very well, and loved greatly); rather, I'm sad in the sense that he saw life in such a way that he no longer wished to take part in it. I can't comprehend that at all. He must have been rather lonely; and his professional life wasn't what he wanted it to be, I know that much. His mother died recently, and he was either divorced or his wife died. I know he had a daughter, she is not a child anymore, so he didn't really leave anyone behind, in a sense (not like a single father that commits suicide when the kid is like 4). He didn't really have anybody, I guess, and that, in and of itself, is sad. He preferred to spend his days in the dark, and alone. I only wish that he hadn't taken this road, not for himself, but for the people that cared about him. I wish he would have talked to someone, and maybe found a greater purpose in his life. I can only hope that he's happier now, dead, than he was alive.
He was a photographer, mainly a wedding photographer, and a rather good one at that, but most of his customers were cheap, and didn't buy many prints. I don't think he was in massive debt, or anything, but I do think that he probably felt under appreciated for his work. He had a lot of work coming, too, so even if he was struggling a bit, he had nine or ten weddings booked for the future, so things would have begun to look up. It just doesn't make sense to me.
I hardly ever think about death, when I do, it's a fleeting thought, but things like this seem to force one to think of it. I suppose I never really think of it because I live my life so "in the moment." I'm not entirely sure that's the right way to live, not planning at all for the future, but I always have this really bizarre feeling that I'm going to die really young, so I had better enjoy the fruits of life while I'm lucky enough to be here.
As I was thinking about this earlier, I was reminded of "The Death of Ivan Ilych", which I had to read for my English class this semester. I didn't understand the philosophical side of the story until earlier today. I wonder if that's how he felt before he decided to kill himself. He certainly wasn't a young man anymore, he must have been in his sixties, maybe into his seventies; more than likely he was going to be afflicted with the same disease that struck his mother--Parkinson's disease--and he knew this. I wonder how big of a role that played in his decision. But what I really wonder, is what he thought of his life as a whole. On the outside (a not-so-distant outside, but distant enough that I didn't know him on too-personal a level) it seems as though his life was almost without meaning. I hate to say that, but it doesn't seem he accomplished a whole lot in life. Yes, he was an excellent photographer, but he didn't really use his talents in the way they could have been used. He owned his own studio, and for a while made some okay money, I suppose. Times were probably hard recently. He lived his life day by day, and probably never did what he really wanted to do. That's so saddening. I'm still trying to imagine what he must have felt like to be able to actually kill himself--the depression must have been unbearable. I keep thinking of this, but I don't want to comprehend that deep level of sadness that he underwent: no one should have to. It all keeps coming back to the exact same thing, I wish he would have just talked to somebody. And here I sit, in tears for this man I hardly knew, and didn't love, because of how sad his life must have been. I guess I cared for him a bit more than I thought.
