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Life & Death
Following S. Milford Rd, Then General Motor Ave, I arrived at this place, called Milford, A tiny spot on Google Earth.
I have had a strong urge to come here:
On my usual walk along the river this morning, I felt suffocated by a stifling air in Ann Arbor, then I thought of the small town, where Mr. Lynch lives & writes about death and life.
It is a nice place, I'd say:
A dozen of boutiques on the main street An Irish pub where Mr. Lynch has his breakfast, I suppose A financial service with a name tag of Wall Street And a chocolate shoppe, where I got myself a few treats
On one of the hilly side streets, While driving, I caught a glimpse of A small Milford supermarket and A Milford cinema, quite charming.
I haven't fund Lynch and Sons.
I didn't detect a trace of death. On a water front, I saw houses with red flowers, neatly arranged, very pretty, under the warm afternoon sun of early fall.
I, too, have thought a lot about life and death.
In my mind, death is beautiful, at least not as dread as birth. The pain of life begins with that first cry, frightened by the dark tunnel, or perhaps more by incoming unending anxieties.
How to be sane in an insane world? How to be an individual in a crowd? How to think set up in a house of rules? How to dream buried between coke cola bottles? How to live fixed as bolts or nuts on a machine? ...
Perhaps that's why I haven't given, and will not give birth. I haven't seen a death either. I am just babbling, but
Mr. Lynch has seen death, real death. Perhaps thousands of them, If a couple hundreds a year. As an undertaker, he has witnessed:
The death of his own father on a cold winter day The death of a lady, parting with no children aside The death of a boy, leaving two devastating parents behind And the death of a man, whose son said: "You will never get prepared enough till the moment comes."
Through his glasses, Mr. Lynch observes the transition of life, closely, and the change of meaning, with precision. He got truths to tell us:
"While the dead don't
care, the dead matter. The dead matter to the
living. In accompanying the dead,
getting them where they need to go, we get
where we need to be - to the edge
of that oblivion and then returned to life with
certain knowledge that life has changed."
I listened to him, carefully. His voice is not grandioso or magnificent, but honest and humane. |
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