mama i'm coming home
When I watched Ozzy sang "Mama, I'm Coming Home" at his Back to the Beginning gig I had this foreboding feeling. While this man was pulling off the last thing he ever wanted to do before he passed, he must've already knew the end was nigh. Then this morning, the news came. Ozzy Osborne dead at the age of 76.
But this post isn't really about our rock legend, it's about what happened. And what will happen. Death.
The one thing that often passes through my mind is the death of my mother, whether near or far, it's something that'll inevitably happen. It's this sort of dreadful feeling whenever I see the wrinkling deepen on her features or how she's no longer the speed demon she used to be when I was younger. The list of little things that continue to grow everyday only impress upon you how little and little the fuse has become until it reaches the end. At least once a month, she'll talk about how death is a normal part of life and that I have to be able to make peace with her passing once it happens, to be prepared. Logical, but heart-wrenching.
But I'm not someone who likes to think about the end. The end has always been obvious. We live, we do things, we die. There's no aftercredits, there's no continue button. During my middle school years, I lost a good friend of mine to a case of drug overdose. He was a good man and did more for me than I ever did for him. I don't dwell on it enough to have any regrets but he always comes to mind. Last year, a coworker of mine passed away due to cardiac arrest - apparently he never suffered from any heart problems prior. In addition, I've lost all my grandparents too. I think about them all the time, the people that have left footprints in my life.
Though they no longer walk the earth, we'll continue to keep them in mind. After all, once we've passed, we only exist in memory.
But I'm not sentimental like that. It's okay if I'm forgotten by time after I'm gone. I want to make the most of what I have, to be and to become someone I'm proud of with the time I have. If death comes quick, I know I've done my best. If death takes its time, I know I'll be proud of myself by the time I'm gone. We can't always be bummed out by the cards we've been dealt. Several brushes with death have already hardened me to the fact. The end is already writ, and it's up to us to write the journey.
So I'll do what I can. I'll keep pushing forward. I'll spend the time that matters with my girlfriend. I'll take the time to hang out with the close friends in my life, to spend more time together than apart. And I'll call my mum when I feel like we haven't talked, I'll visit her when I feel I haven't seen her in a while, I'll take her out when I feel like we haven't done something together.
Times might change, times might be strange. I know I won't be the same.
But mama, when the time comes, I too will be coming home.
All my blog posts are drafted on my 1975 Olympia Traveller de Luxe