There Are No New Old Friends – Part 3
This Meaning-Free Void
That I’m trying to make sense of the death of one of life’s good people makes no difference. The remorseless, senseless, commonplace, fundamentally unremarkable fact of a death is itself trite. Every death will one-day be unremarkable. Ultimately, it’s neither good nor bad – no-one can judge death by such sentimental, fabricated human notions. Whatever else it might fleetingly be, eventually every death will end up as a bald simple fact.
That greedy people, violent people, cruel people, unthinking people and uncaring people keep living when good people have died is a similarly unremarkable fact.
My unthinking anger in the face of my friend’s death is pathetically inevitable.
My frustration at the seeming unfairness of it all is predictable, ineffective – and in reality unfounded. After all, to exist unfairness needs the existence of fairness, but there’s no-one and no thing to arbitrate for that. A notion of fairness is just another fabrication. Every life should be properly valued for its existence, for its potential and for its legacies. But every death is always, ultimately, just a death.
The only sensible thing I’m left to try and do is to make something positive out of this meaning-free void.