Thursday, October 04, 2007 | By: Dusty Taylor

Death and the art of dying..


Suicide is such a huge dramatic statement. That someone of the tender age of 32 would do it and leave 4 little kids and a woman that loved him is beyond me.

That he wouldn't leave a note really freaks me out too. If your going to stage your death, don't you want people to know why your going to all the trouble to do it?

His funeral put asses in the seats. He was loved, make no doubts about that my dear reader..they said they hadn't seen a turnout of that magnitude in freaking ages..

But his illness got the best of him, and for that he must be forgiven. At least that is the way I think of it now..he was bi-polar. That our Medicare system constantly fucked with him about his meds doesn't please me one fucking iota. It makes me want to beat someone to a bloody pulp.

But I do know thats wrong too..and two wrongs don't make a right. Damn it.

I can understand his death at that level however. Because I have been there and thought about doing that. Too many times to count. Debilitating physical illness will do that to a normally sane individual.

But I have always come back from the edge my dear reader. I have found a reason to keep 'keeping on'. Chris didn't, and I am filled with emotional pain that no vicodin, xanax or muscle relaxer can take away.

Which is probably what he felt at the end. The suffocating emotional pain that washes over you and won't let you up for air no matter what you take or what you do.

At least his pain is over. I am glad for that, it is my only saving grace to take away from this experience. His demons are at rest.

It just leaves the living to figure it the fuck out and move on.

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