I don’t put too much stock on palm reading or any sort of fortune telling at all, but during drinks, a palm reader looked at my hands and told me that I’ll have a healthy life… a short and healthy life.
See, I haven’t been the healthiest kid growing up. I was always sick with something… a skinny, asthmatic kid. This must be the root of my weak and cowardly nature. Anyway, I’m much better now. I’m not as skinny. Heck, there are parts of me that my wife would even call fat. My body basically forgot it had asthma, and the only thing that worries me is a somewhat enlarged thyroid and a slightly high blood pressure. The thyroid’s a genetic thing, and I just have to watch it. As for my blood pressure, it’s the burgers I’ve been having on a somewhat regular basis. I’m going to have to watch that, too. I work out, I take my vitamins, and I brush my teeth religiously. Healthy life.
Too bad that according to this palm reading; it’ll probably end soon in a fatal accident.
But is a short life really any worse than a long one? I guess it depends on a person’s lifestyle, or what exactly they’re doing with that life. But really, a short life is far worse for the people the dead leave behind. I don’t think the dead ever think that their lives are far too short. At least, that’s what I assume. When I pass away and become privy to the secrets of the universe, I don’t think I’ll mourn much for my short life. I’ll mourn for the living I leave behind, but not for dead old me. I like to imagine that there are grander truths after death, and that all of this living is inconsequential compared to the “life” afterwards. It sounds very Catholic of me. At least that’s what I prefer to think. It’s Catholic, not morbid.
All this talk of life and short lives remind me of Rufus Wainwright who wrote, “Life is the longest death in California.” The song is not my favorite, but it’s my favorite line he’s ever written.
Life truly is the longest death.