The value of Letting Go
Hi. (Pause.) I admire each of you. (Silence.) It’s rare to come across a group of people so dedicated to staying alive. The oldest one of you is what, eighty-five? (Pause for rhetorical answer.) Wow. (Pause, wondering how to ask the next question.) Are you happy? As happy as you can be for not being with your remaining relations? I can’t imagine it being too easy. Or maybe it is. Time speeds up when everything else slows down. I can run and jump, but in here my soul is depressed. The thought of waffles and cats aren’t unimaginable, but pictured in a sad way- a consolation prize for being alone. Eating waffles because they are soft, off of trays that have served the men who do not grow older. Holding a kitten because you know the act is supposed to make you feel happy. What do you have left? The profound sadness that ebbs away your remaining energy inside. The uncontrollable swooping dizziness that causes your heart and head to grow physically heavy. Do the nurses come rushing to your side? Do your stiff, pale hands wave them away? How can you live? Who are you doing it for? Already dying, but killing yourself trying to stay alive. Forget the fading memories you have, easily, and let yourself slip away into unhappiness. It’s easier.
