Death.

2002-05-17 - 12:17 a.m.

We have now been bickering for over 24 hours. Pookie had two patients on Wednesday. One died, the other was packing up to move. He has three new patients now.

He says he's not upset about the death.

I think he's lying.

I've been to four funerals. One was my grandfather, the other three were people unrelated to me. One was a suicide of my brother's friend's best friend, one was an ex-friend's father, and one was Pookie's best friend's father.

Each of those have affected me. You can not be a part of death and not care.

Hence our bickering. I haven't brought up my theory about death. I won't.

Because I believe the tripe I was spouting earlier tonight, about how you enter a life-long relationship and you have to expect ups and downs. I am never going to seem 100% supportive, and neither is he...because no human ever is. We aren't together because we expect the other to be our "soft place to land" all the time. If he was a soft place to land all the time, he would be dead. He would have stopped growing. Same with me. We challenge each other, and we help each other. Sometimes we challenge when we're supposed to be helping, and sometimes we help when we're supposed to be challenging.

This is the sum of my wisdom with relationships. I think it's true.

And I think that when he's ready to mourn his patient's death, I'll be there. And because I'm able to do it, I won't be smug.

Because -I- am affected by death, even when it's second hand.

Cheers,

The Magus

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