The day flew by. I took the T into Boston to record some documents at the registry, then came home, got my car and drove down to Dedham, where I did some more recording at the Norfolk Registry. By the time I got back to work, it was about two thirty. I wasn't there long.
Even though it was overcast for much of the day, the sun made its first appearance in a while. Too bad it brought mugginess with it. Even still, it was refreshing to walk in the sunshine. Most of my day was rife with easy thoughts and good spirits. Everything changed when I finished By Sorrow's River during lunch.
I'm assuming most of you won't read the book, though I'm not precisely sure why exactly, but I'm going to issue a spoiler alert, anyway, my first ever. So, if you plan on reading this series of books by Larry McMurtry, which you should, because he's a fantastic author, skip over the next part.
Pomp Charbonneau, one of the main characters of the last couple of books dies at the end of this one. The book began with him nearly dying from an arrow to the heart. Pomp vexed Tasmin Berrybender, the main character of the series, because of his lack of passion. He was sweet, kind, cultured, and loyal but he was not passionate, especially in the way Tasmin, a voracious lover, wanted him to be. It was said that he was born by sorrow's river, because no matter what, he always carried sadness with him.
Near the end of the book, the Berrybender party is taken prisoner by the Mexican Army, mostly because its Captain hates Pomp for reasons that have nothing to do with him. On the way to Santa Fe, where Pomp and a couple of others will face punishment for being spies, Pomp has a chance to escape, but he chooses not to, fearing the Captain will take his anger out on Tasmin and her family if he does.
Others escape and the Captain has had enough. He decides to kill Pomp. The following is from the book.
Captain Reyes advanced toward Pomp until he stood at point-blank range. Only then did he raise his musket. For a moment he allowed his gaze to meet that of the young man he was about to kill. the young man's eyes were unfrightened, undisturbed. Once he looked into his intended victim's eye, the captain, to his great surprise, could not turn away, for in the young man's eyes he seemed to see understanding -- even sympathy -- neither of which Captain Reyes had ever been offered in his life. It was as if the condemned man, the favorite, saw it all: the early glory, then the bitter failure on the plains, the stalled career, the dull cadets, the dust. He saw it all; he understood.
Then, while Captain Reyes was considering the possiblility that he had misjudged this quiet, sympathetic young man, a gun went off. Pomp Charbonneau fell, as Lieutenant Molino had fallen. the understanding eyes went blank. Captain Reyes turned, to see what fool had fired, and realized, to his shock, that the drifting smoke came from his own musket. He had fired.
I sat with Pomp's death for awhile after lunch. A fictional character to be sure, but one rendered so lifelike, so human, that his death felt real.
Later, at home, I found out one of my friend's girlfriend died in a car accident. I never got to meet her, but I know how much they loved each other. He wrote about her often, always in adoration, and frequently posted pictures of her, usually with him by her side. Theirs, from what I gathered, was a true bond, a deep affection I have yet to experience, and can only imagine. They shared a house together, she had a son.
To lose someone so suddenly -- it's hard to comprehend. To have a strong bond severed so quickly.... One can have a healthy view of death, seeing it as a continuance of life but in a different form, but when someone is taken away from you, it's devastating, no matter your beliefs. They were there and now they are gone.
And then, after hearing this news, I learned that both Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson passed away. I wondered what was going on, and if there was a lesson I could learn from all of this piling on of death.
I saw Mara later on. We had a nice visit. It's good having a friend these days.
Before we met up, I hung out at Starbucks for awhile, watching all the couples walk by outside and felt compassion for my friend, who's world has been turned upside down.
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2 comments:
There is so much that I could write on this blog but perhaps I will just leave you with these few thoughts: I have experience with the death of a loved one but not with the sudden and tragic death of a person who was fine one day (or one minute for that matter) and gone the next. My father died when I was 15 years old but he'd had leukemia for eight years before he died. He gone in and out of remission and had spent a few years where he didn't even seem sick during his longest period of remission. But the leukemia may have been precipitated by a previous injury and subsequent medications. So, suffice it to say that he really had not been well most of the time that I remember him. But, the death though not sudden like that of your friend’s girlfriend was not necessarily any easier though I cannot imagine what it is like to lose a loved one when you have had little to no warning such as in this case. What I went through with my Father is often referred to as "The Long Goodbye" where you seem to have all of the time in the world to say and do the things you should before they leave you. But I must say that as difficult and strange as that loss was for me I often wonder if I possess the strength to endure the other kind of death, which occurs not only without warning but seemingly without reason as well.
Thanks for sharing,Kate. I think no matter how it manifests, loss can be devastating and have a deep,disruptive,and lasting effect on those subjected to it. I say those, as if not all of us experience it, but before we leave this mortal coil, all of us will experience in one form or another. I thought about it last night: Unless I die before my time, I will most likely see the death of my parents,other relatives, and close friends. A sad thought, I suppose, but one that must have its due, because death is unavoidable -- each of us owes one --and, in order to not be overwhelmed by it, we need to accept it, and come as close as we can to understanding it.
I appreciate the comment, Kate. I'm sorry you had to go through that with your father, but I hope you were able to take whatever positives, however few, you could from the experience.
Oh, and when am I going to be seeing this blog of yours? I've been looking forward to it.
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