The only way to truly understand dying is to die. Technically speaking, I have not experienced death directly. When most people say they "died and came back," what they mean is that they experienced cardiac arrest. They "coded," as the medical terminology goes. But that isn't dying; that's a "near-death experience." True death is the cessation of all brain function beyond recovery. Impairment of brain function is not, by itself, a sign that you are dead or dying. You can lose quite a bit of brain function temporarily or permanently and still be alive. Even if we exclude the idea of a "persistent vegetative state," where only autonomic functions continue, there's quite a bit of wiggle room between full brain function and the threshold where it's not enough to sustain a conscious, aware being.
I've gotten off the point, as usual. There are degrees of understanding death, is what I'm saying. Dying is the most direct way. Watching someone die, that's close, but I don't think it's as close as you can really get. We have a tendency to shut down, close ourselves off at moments like that. You can witness a person dying but you're probably not feeling it. The mind protects itself from the reality of mortality. People who have near-death experiences often report that they felt peaceful, ready to let go. I always find that a little funny. Right down to the last second, your brain is rationalizing everything. Your entire life, all your basic drives are telling you, "don't die, don't die, don't die." And then, when the final moments come, your brain just straight up says, "it's cool, go ahead and check out, nothing to worry about here." If that doesn't prove what an absolute mindfuck human consciousness is, I don't know what would.
I'm still off the point, though!
Yeah, maybe you should focus.
I just haven't had my Wheaties today.
What the hell are those?
Kids....
I'm getting to it, I'm getting to it. You ever wear a dead person's clothes?
No.
Speaking for myself, nothing reminds me of the reality of death quite like wearing a dead man's clothes. Doesn't even have to be a guy I killed! Besides, that's more like having a trophy. That has the opposite effect. It doesn't make you respect death, it makes you proud of inflicting it. Very different. The things I have from people who've died are because I respected them or I loved them or I at least kind of liked them. See the t-shirt I've got on under here?
Yeah. Looks dingy.
Yup. Belonged to Paul Rogen. I think I've mentioned him. He died a while back and left me what little he had. I think I was the closest thing to a friend he had once he decided to live the merc life. There were other people with us, but he and I are about the same age so we got along best. We were mentors to the others, I guess. Anyway, this is the shirt he wore in Basic. He kept it all this time. Took good care of it. He didn't say why. I assume he was just sentimental about it. But he wasn't the kind of guy to talk about anything sentimental. He didn't wax poetic about the good old days. He was always facing forward. Wife left him, kids gone? Face forward. Comrades dying in urban firefights? Face forward. You can't change the past. I mean, I can, but his relationship with that was complicated. He didn't really like the idea. He felt like, if something happened, it happened. You shouldn't mess with it. He was more than happy to go on my little missions and help me change the past, but he absolutely refused to ever use it to benefit himself. He wasn't a guy for in-depth explanations, either. He'd just say what he thought and that was that. He didn't give a lot of reasoning. When he did give you reasons, it was just the bullet points. Not a wordy fellow, is what I'm saying.
I take it you were always the chatty one.
You think I'm bad, I should introduce you to Mitch sometime. That kid never shut the hell up.
But yeah, I walk around in Paul's shirt, thinking about how he's gone. When people die, the only tangible things they leave behind--other than a body, obviously--is their stuff. Somebody has to go through it. If somebody who cares goes through it, that's lucky. You'd rather have that, I assume. The worst is when it's all thrown out or donated because nobody gives a shit. All these items tell a story about the person you were. When they're dispersed out into the world, sure, they might bring other people comfort or happiness for totally different reasons, but your imprint isn't really on them anymore. They don't connect anybody to you. I wear this shirt, it's like Paul's right here with me.
That's kind of sweet, I guess.
Is it? I don't know. I just know that my life has been full of so much death and destruction, if I have any piece of a friend that I can carry with me, I'm grateful. I wouldn't say it feels nice, but it definitely reminds me of that person, of how I felt about them. I'm not going to get all mushy about Paul, mind you. I have my limits. But it also makes me think about death. It's a constant reminder of what's waiting for me. Of what's waiting for all of us, obviously. One day, I'll be dead and this shirt won't be mine anymore. Maybe you'll take it, maybe Mitch will take it, maybe Jake would like it. I don't know. I should probably decide who gets my stuff when I die, huh? Would you believe I don't have a will?
Do you really have much to put in a will?
More than you'd think! But to be honest, it's mostly sentimental items. You'd have to care about me to care about them. I'm not going to assume you care all that much.
You're totally baiting me into saying I like you.
It wouldn't hurt to hear you're at least a little fond of me. In a totally platonic and professional way, of course.
Sure. I find your presence tolerable and occasionally pleasant.
That might be the highest praise I've ever gotten. I'll definitely take that joyfully to my grave.
Have you ever had anyone close to you die?
My mom's parents died when I was little. I didn't know them very well, but I remember going to their funerals.
Do you have anything to remember them by?
My grandmother had a collection of costume jewelry. I got some of that, though her sisters went nuts pilfering the rest. I got a few necklaces, bracelets and earrings. I wear them once in a while.
Of course. Why do you wear them?
To be honest, they remind me more of being a little kid than of my grandmother, specifically. Sometimes I just miss the way I felt then. Back before I knew what bills and taxes were.
I think we all go through that, to some extent. You always want to feel connected to that part of yourself. In a way, that version of you is dead, too. It's stuck in the past, unreachable, something you can never be again.
Except you can actually go be your past self again.
Well, the funny thing with that is, when I do a merge I don't really get the personality or psychological development of the "me" that I merge with. Any alternate memories, I get that. But otherwise it's just... me in a younger body. Usually just slightly younger, honestly. It's not a trip down memory lane the way you might imagine it.
I guess.
But the whole idea of nostalgia, if you ask me, is that you just want to feel the way you felt back then. That's why you put on your grandmother's costume jewelry. You miss her, but it's more that you miss you. You miss the you that you were back then. You miss the way those things made you feel back then, because they don't feel the same now. Just tying it all up together: nostalgia is making yourself experience the death of your own past, over and over. You're confronting a ghost that you can't communicate with. You're looking for a person who doesn't exist anymore. The feeling is always bittersweet. You can be grateful for the memories, for the ability to look back on them and remember that there were good times, but you can't really get them back. You could go to the same places and do the same things, but it can't be the same, because you're not the same. That's what I mean when I say wearing a dead person's clothes is about as close to knowing what death is like as you can get without actually dying. You're wearing death like it's a close friend. You're reminding yourself that the end of everything is coming, sooner than you think.