On February 18th, Natacha’s facebook status was “riddled with migraine”. Friends replied by suggesting she relax, eat, try acupuncture, or have sex.
A series of photos was just uploaded last week.
Starting March 18th - four weeks later - messages were of the type “we just heard... get well soon”. Today a little after midnight it was “hang in there, darling, we’re all with you”.
Natacha died this morning. Brain tumour.
The facebook messages stopped at 1am.
I didn’t even know she was sick. Neither did she, until two weeks ago.
We weren’t close friends - we were classmates in grad school and we must have emailed a few times since graduation, particularly since we’re both in Paris. The 'let's meet' messages we both knew we wouldn't follow-up on.
It’s not that I miss her. And I don’t have cute stories to share, less even to write a eulogy.
Yet I can feel my nostrils shiver, and my eyes stinging a little.
Something is really fucked up.
Twenty-somethings are not supposed to die of a brain tumour.
She had a life, for fuck’s sake. Family. Incomplete job assignments, travel reservations on hold. She did not get to finish the new Murakami novel she just bought. She had new photos in her camera she couldn’t wait to show someone next Saturday.
She didn’t deserve it.
Now what. A religious service for a God she barely believed in - ‘half-buddhist and non-practicing catholic’, she wrote -, memories for her family. Her stuff in boxes. The Murakami, with the bookmark she bought in New York, given to a friend of her brother or sold second hand.
The everlasting question that Man has attempted to answer convincingly - and has thus far failed - is why things like that happen. Because, where I stand, it sounds grossly unfair to me.
A series of photos was just uploaded last week.
Starting March 18th - four weeks later - messages were of the type “we just heard... get well soon”. Today a little after midnight it was “hang in there, darling, we’re all with you”.
Natacha died this morning. Brain tumour.
The facebook messages stopped at 1am.
I didn’t even know she was sick. Neither did she, until two weeks ago.
We weren’t close friends - we were classmates in grad school and we must have emailed a few times since graduation, particularly since we’re both in Paris. The 'let's meet' messages we both knew we wouldn't follow-up on.
It’s not that I miss her. And I don’t have cute stories to share, less even to write a eulogy.
Yet I can feel my nostrils shiver, and my eyes stinging a little.
Something is really fucked up.
Twenty-somethings are not supposed to die of a brain tumour.
She had a life, for fuck’s sake. Family. Incomplete job assignments, travel reservations on hold. She did not get to finish the new Murakami novel she just bought. She had new photos in her camera she couldn’t wait to show someone next Saturday.
She didn’t deserve it.
Now what. A religious service for a God she barely believed in - ‘half-buddhist and non-practicing catholic’, she wrote -, memories for her family. Her stuff in boxes. The Murakami, with the bookmark she bought in New York, given to a friend of her brother or sold second hand.
The everlasting question that Man has attempted to answer convincingly - and has thus far failed - is why things like that happen. Because, where I stand, it sounds grossly unfair to me.
10 comments:
What disturbs me the most is that when I say I know how you feel, it's not an empty statement. What a fucked up world we live in...
As you wrote on my blog just a few days ago "May she rest in peace, and may her family and friends be accompanied by her spirit always." I don't think I could say it any better than that.
I know this feeling too... reminds me of my friend Tomer, who died of cancer two years ago. I found out when the response to my last SMS was, "I'm sorry, Tomer's gone." He was 28, so bright and life seemed so unfair.
I am so sorry about Natacha. If she was someone you knew and liked, I am sure she was the type who wanted to make the world a better place.
Lisa
Bummer, man. At least the painful time was comparatively brief and she's no longer in it. :/
Oh my, believe me when i say this, but your entry really touched me. Hopefully she's in a better place, I'm sorry for your loss although you were not that close to her...but we're all humans and we all feel for each other....
Just shows you how death does not discriminate, doesn't matter whether you're 5, 20, or 70, when your time is up, it's up...That's a fact of life...Religion has nothing to do with it...
Liza, Lisa, Abu, Lexicala,
(and Benji by email!)
Thank you all, much appreciated.
I'm still trying to wrap my hear around what happened.. I am still overwhelmed by the absurdity of it all.
I don't think that there is a way to really wrap your head around this. Some things are simply inexplicable. I am so sorry.
I think part of the reason that these types of things get to us is because it reminds us that our own futures are not assured--that we have no control. Nearly every time I get into my car, I find myself thinking about the last news report--of some person my age being killed in a car accident.
You learn to live with it.
This is life....... Too many times it seems unfair......
انا لله وانا اليه راجعون
This is a lesson for all of us, not unlike Natasha Richardson's recent death. Life is short. Grab what you have before it's too late. I have never forgotten your sweet comments in the past brother.
The Talmud teaches "it is not given to us to understand the suffering of the righteous or prosperity of the wicked." When we confront tragedy, often the only response we can have is to be silent, as in the Bible Aaron was silent when he was told of the death of his sons Nadav and Avihu. Click here for more on silence.
Sadly, one of the few things you can be sure of that goes with territory of aging is that the death of contemporaries becomes increasingly common.
Oh, Mohammed....I'm SO sorry. "No man (or woman) is an island," one poet wrote--of course you feel a sense of loss, because this was a person who touched your life.
I have no answers to "why?" I have too many "why" questions myself.
No one deserves this.
Yes, it is unfair.
No, you and I can't do anything about this unfairness.
Maybe unfairness exists because it impells us to change the world for the better? I don't know. I wish it weren't so painful. I wish someone who is just starting her life didn't lose it, this way or any other.
Carpe diem, my friend--and keep close to your family and friends. None of us know how much time we have, so make the most of the days you are given.
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