Sitting in business class about a third of the way into a 14-hour flight, you’ve got a lot of comfortable time to think about everything that has transpired this last year. My chair is about 700 ways adjustable. I’ve got more legroom than my apartment and another ten hours completely to myself, with a set of Bose noise-canceling headphones provided by American Airlines. I have an unlimited supply of food and drink, free of charge.
I just finished watching the second movie Drive, and I immediately made a note to remind David to check it out. I had only heard about it briefly while it was in the movies and probably would have chalked it up for some Bullet/Taxi-wannabe remake. I never would have bothered to watch it outside of this flight. I adjust the chair a bit, and I think about my mom’s countless hours on flights around the world and some of the things I would say to her if she was around to listen. I would’ve laughed and brought her back the little plastic toiletry thing they’ve got stuffed between the seats and used it as a stocking-stuffer. I put it in my bag anyway, knowing I will inevitably throw it away once I have dragged that thing some twelve thousand-plus miles.
I look over on the monitor next to me, and the guy has on this show—I think it’s called Suits or something—and it was one of David’s last obsessions that he was getting into before he killed himself.
I think what you end up missing most is the sharing. Who is going to appreciate the multi-function seats without you sounding like a pretentious asshole, even though these seats make transcontinental flying that much more bearable and are worth every penny spent?
Who’s really going to be there during the long-haul to make all this sharing worthwhile? I recognize I’ve always had some trust issues—this situation really hasn’t helped in the least.
You know, I sit here and I think to myself, “All that time invested for what?” If you can’t trust your own family to be there for you, then what the fuck is this really all about? Suicide is a really nasty, selfish, little bugger. While nobody wants anyone in their family to die, you may find yourself thinking, “Well, if this was going to happen, why couldn’t it be something more random?” Freak act of nature… nothing that would make you suffer, mind you. When it happens this way, however, you are stuck with only a shit-ton of misdirected regret and anger that you must learn to get under control. You WILL wonder to yourself, “What more could I have done?” and you WILL do it every day for the rest of your life. Of that I am sure. You WILL have the anger, the sorrow, the disappointment in both yourself and your loss, in which you will hold yourself responsible.
For me at this moment, it’s about the share. I knew I was sad that David and I weren’t going to create any new memories. But even when I am creating my own personal new memories, I’ve lost two channels of sharing that I held in extremely-high esteem. Part of me doesn’t want to invest the time into building new relationships for fear that they, too, will be taken away from me as many things have these last few years. I recognize that that isn’t healthy. I’m not sure what to do about it just yet.
I was on a flight several hours ago, the seats adjusted seven hundred different ways including full recline. I had a four course meal at 32,000 feet. The movie Drive was actually rather good. I guess I’ll tell you all. It was a pretty neat experience, but it’s pretty sad I had to share it on a blog and not with my mom and little brother.
