Consideration Of The Unpopular

So often, when doing mundane things like strolling across a parking lot or drinking a cup of coffee or sitting and watching birds with my dog, I am reminded that this might be the very last time I do this particular thing.

The older I get, the closer the final things come. This doesn’t fill me with sadness; it grants me a certain quiet happiness because when I am in this state of awareness — which I consider a form of living gratitude — I can enjoy things fully.

But I’ve learned that, with rare exceptions, I cannot express this sense of gratitude and fleeting experience to others. I can’t say, “Did you ever think this might be the last meteor shower you ever see?” or “What if this were the last week of  your life?” or “Does it seem possible that you’ll never see another sunrise?” If I do, I’m accused of being “morbid,” and the person to whom I’m speaking changes the subject straightaway, having become visibly annoyed.

Memento mori is a foreign concept today, except perhaps to a few neo-stoics who have browsed through a few old books online. I wonder if they have skulls as screensavers on their laptops?

~ S.K. Orr