It’s the living who hear what is said to, and about the dead.
Sometimes death, and the things people say about the deceased reveal a lot of unfiltered truth. It can be touching, encouraging, even funny to hear people’s tributes. Sometimes, though, you feel it’s best that the deceased never knew what actual role they played in the lives of others.
So THAT’S all they were to you? THAT’S why all heaven and earth were admonished to pray, fast, and rend their garments for the sick? Do we only want people to get well so that OUR agendas, plans, schedules, coins, and shows won’t be impacted?
Did/doesthe star of your show know that’s all they were/are?
It’s interesting how people appear to be more valuable in death than in life; how their body of work becomes a mine; a source of capital and wealth for those who didn’t have the talent, nor did they put in the effort.
It’s sad that people have to die to finally be free of the users, control freaks, leeches, manipulators, narcissists, and otherwise questionable and unhealthy relationships in their lives.
Does your humanity matter less than your talent or resources? Do you know who you are? Do you care? Do you know what you boil down to in the lives of others? Is it YOU they love, need, want, and adore, or what you do, and how you enrich THEM?
Are you someone’s nurse, purse, meal ticket, main attraction, punching bag, Mister or Miss Fix-it? Are you the glue, the party planner, the bank, free counsel, hotel, bail bondsman, punchline, cook, transportation, organizer, babysitter, storage facility, footstool, savior, or the coattail upon which they ride?
When you’re sick, is the emphasis on your restored health for your sake, or for you to get back to work to benefit others?
What truth does your absence reveal? Is it only in your absence that what you brought to the table is fully realized? Are you indispensable? Are you quickly and unceremoniously replaced when you can’t deliver, or say “no”?
Is the search on to find your doppelgänger? Whose green eyes have been eyeballing your job, spot, or position for eons, and just waiting for their feet to fill your shoes? Who’s lining up, scheming, scraping, scratching, and schmoozing to take your place?
Who’s working you to death, and cheering on, and admonishing you to press through your exhaustion? Why are you complying? Do you feel obligated or without choice?
How long after you close your eyes will the talk be about the continuation of the show, how much you sacrificed, and gave it all for everyone else—while ignoring your own wellbeing?
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