Wednesday 10 January 2018

A hand reaching down to me

Not that I have any intention of so-doing, but I reckon that if I dropped down dead tomorrow just six or perhaps seven people would genuinely miss me. I'm not talking about people feeling sad that I had gone, or having the occasional moment of wondering what I might have said/done in a certain situation, or even having a wistful second of just being sad that I wasn't there any more. Perhaps feeling it unjust that I had gone so (relatively) young. No. Because none of those things are the same as actively missing someone. When it comes down to that, I think there would just be six or seven people dabbing their eyes over me.

So imagine what sort of life you must have led to have thousands of people, hundreds of thousands maybe, all around the world, grieving for you?

Two years gone today.

And because this has all been about death so far, and the ultimate futility of life, here's something lighter but still Bowie-related, from Adam Buxton:

9 comments:

  1. Weird to think about grief and how many people might miss us when we're gone. I also wonder how quickly I'll be forgotten, or how soon memories of me will die with the people who held them, so that it will be as if I've never existed. Which I suppose is how it gets with everyone in the end. Aargh.... Glad you cheered me up with that great little film, hadn't seen it before!

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  2. ... And meant to say before I inadvertently pressed publish, that I can hardly believe it's been two years already. A fine tribute.

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  3. The Cobbler Bob route may have been interesting!

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  4. Replies
    1. Ah, Rol, we've never met but you're a good friend.

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  5. The Man of Cheese19 January 2018 at 23:09

    Keep clinging on if you don't mind,gigs won't be the same on my own!!!!

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    1. Don't worry my old cheesemonger - am going nowhere.

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