Realize the sun doesn't go down

[James Castle]

A year ago this time, I was convinced that I was going to die. I had enlarged lymph nodes, the hallmark of two diseases, lymphoma(cancer) and AIDS. Everything wound up turning out OK, though I cannot describe the 2 weeks it took to get the AIDS test back. How careful have you been your whole life to avoid AIDS? Every cut, scrape and sexual experience comes rushing back to haunt you.

This got me to thinking about death a lot, and people in my personal universe who had died. Even people out of my personal universe. Animals too. Certain deaths have affected the way I think and live, including the deaths of people who never knew me. I want to relay some of those experiences in this journal.

The first one involves a mouse.

I moved into a new apartment last summer, the first time I ever lived alone. I was supposed to move in with my girlfriend, a girl I started out completely enamored with, but as time wore on, realized this was not my life's path. I left behind a certain future with an awesome girl to enter a decidedly uncertain future in a crummy new town.

I despise rodents, and within the first month in my new place, I saw a mouse crawl out from under my bed, and stumble drunkenly across my floor. I watched him move about, and was both too creeped out and intrigued to try and shoo him away. He crawled into my hallway and lay down. I grew sort of comfortable with him there, and as time passed I lost my repulsion for him. I entertained thoughts of him being my new pet. I would come home and feed him bread or maybe peanut butter. He just lay there, and as an hour passed, I realized that something was wrong. I looked closer and noticed that blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. He was dying, probably from some poison. I sat there, feeling immensely sad and helpless, and watched his last twitches. Then he died.

He never knew or perhaps cared that I was watching him, but for some reason it mattered a lot to me that this creature did not die alone. He probably felt alone, but he wasn't. I bet that's the way it is with a lot of people who die.

 

[James Castle]

No one dies as long as you remember their name

I found out last night that my friend Jessica died a year ago. As you can tell, we didn't keep in touch much. She died in the bath tub,under unclear circumstances. Let me start at the beginning.

I was 15 years old, and a punk rocker in a high school that was at best amused, and at worst, hostile, to the concept. I walked through the halls with a walkman on at all times, because I enjoyed the company of the Sex Pistols and Seven Seconds over my peers.

The first week of gym, we sat on bleachers for the 43 minute period while coaches organized athletic events around us. I sat alone. At the end of the period one day, a girl walked up to me with a slip of paper. She said, "This is my friend's number. She wants you to call her". She gestured over, and I saw an incredibly beautiful blonde haired girl. She was maybe 5'11" tall, thin, with striking eyes. In a different town, she would have been on the fast track to a modeling career. Two guys sitting next to me said, "She wants to talk to you?" eyeing me in disbelief. I mentally agreed. "Fuck off", was her friend's reply, as she walked away. Man, what a cool day that was.

Of course I called her, and we started to hang out. A lot. She asked me weird questions over the phone, like, "what would you do if I tied you to my bed?" Sure, as a reflective adult, it sounds playful and sexy. But to a 15 year old kid, it's a bizarre question. At this point, I had not even kissed a girl.

We would be driven around by Bob, this 23 year old guy who was clearly in love with her. I never got the full nature of their relationship, but it must have been deep for him to drive her around with prospective boyfriends.

I liked her very much. When I would get taunted at school by the jocks, I would tell her about it, and she would become so enraged. She would threaten to kill or maim the instigators in new and intriguing ways.

Time ran on, and we grew as friends although we never hooked up. The closest we came was one night when she kissed my face and hand so that I could show up at a party like I had gotten lucky. I wound up dating a very different type of girl shortly thereafter, and Jessica faded into the background. Until college.

I reconnected with her in my freshman year. She called me and told me about all the older men who would take her out. Her nights usually ended in disappointment. She often joked that we should just date each other.

Jessica was a smart girl with a great heart, who didn't know which way to turn. She was just like all the friends that I had: confused, feeling alien, not sure how to use her abilities. My friends and I found each other. She found heroin.

She was addicted for years, and ran with a crowd of assholes who mistreated her. She had the knack of being mistreated by men, going back to her father.

At the end, as I have been told, she was clean and with a pretty decent guy. Then she turned up in the bathtub. I do not know if it was intentional or not. Either way, I know for a fact that she is happier wherever she is now. She deserved better treatment than she got in this life. She was worldy and innocent at the same time, and I wish you could have met her.

I will never run into her on the street and feel great knowing she is doing well.

I will never forget how supercool she made me feel at a time when I was incredibly lonely. I hope that in some small degree, I returned the favor.

 

[James Castle]

Donna.

My family was friends with another family down the street with children that roughly matched my and my three siblings ages. My oldest sibling Mary Anne was friends with Donna. She was the oldest of her family too.

Donna was loud, but in a great way. Really personable, constantly exploding like a firecracker. In pictures of my sister as a child, Donna is often present next to her.

She was born, she grew up, she found love, she had a child. She developed brain cancer. (It should be noted that I grew up in suburban New Jersey, a state infamous for it's cancer clusters caused by power lines and toxic dumping.)

Donna underwent treatment, and was told that the cancer was in remission. Then it came back. She died three days before her 28th birthday. I was at the funeral. I watched her husband hold her child, as scores of people, younger visitors than funeral parlors are used to, offered condolences.

I am 30 years old. I have already lived a longer timeline than Donna has. I think about that often. I have considered my last year plus as a gift, because I know at least one person who didn't get it.

I keep her funeral card on my bookstand. Whenever I have a bad day, whenever the girl doesn't call, whenever work tears at my heart, whenever I have a bad show, I look at the card. It's all a gift, ever wonderful terrible moment of it.

None of us are going to live forever. If you're reading this, you're doing better than a lot of people. Don't forget it.