The End Of Days
I reach the end of days. I have lived a good life, and realize, knowing that everything is impermanent, that I shall soon pass. This truly came home to me when I buried my Sensei, John R. Kunce.
Uncle John, as I affectionately called him, was several years my junior. We grew up together, going to Sunday School and sneaking out of that situation to roam the streets of the small town of Eaton Rapids, Michigan. We explored the small town, breaking innocently into an abandoned woolen mill, and generally having a good time together.
The years passed, and John and I became a bit distant, but always remained friends. He went to the Nam, as did I, and came back a broken man, as I did also. John stuttered for the remainder of his life, the victim of a fire fight that had the point man's head blown back into Uncle John's chest. He was never the same after that.
We came together again in later years. John took up karate after the service to help him deal with the fucking PTSD. We spent years together, learning the arts, drinking and drugging until it came to a point where cocaine was killing him, and he hurt more people than he taught. Sadly, I turned from the martial arts to puruse a safer lifestyle. It saddens me to this day...
I buried Uncle John several weeks ago, the victim of lung cancer. He was in great health, trim and fit from working out daily in the arts. But the impermanence of life overtook him and he is gone. He is sadly missed.
It made me think to see John lying in that coffin, a small smile upon his face. As a Buddhist, I felt that possibly he had found a better rebirth. I prayed over his casket, petitioning the Enlightened One to grant John a rebirth in the higher realms. I feel my request was answered. We shall meet again...
Tonight, I sat here alone, and thought of these things. Rosie, the love of my life, is out of town in Atlanta attending a conference, and I miss her dearly. I came to the realization that I also reach end of days, and will die a lonely old man. Being an entrepeneur, and spending hours per day on the internet, I tend to forget those I love, and realize this must end. So be it...
I packed up the Dodge, put some iced water in the cab, and drove the 25 miles to see my best friend. Bummer is the best friend I have ever had. He, too, is a Viet vet, with all the trimmings. He stood up with Rosie and I when we married. That was seven long years ago, and I have not been to his home since before we married. I am ashamed...
We had a good talk, a thing that only old friends can understand. We did a bit of crank, and I drove home with peace in my heart, and a very good buzz on. I, reclusive old man that I am, must spend the remainder of my days letting the ones I love know that fact. It is imperative...
Drive on,
Charlie~
