"Love isn’t just blind to ugliness, but to decay. Look at two 80-year-olds gazing at each other like teenagers and you’ll know what I mean. When I lose Jake, I’ll lose someone ever seeing me throughout all my ages again."
Have a safe trip to the other side, wonderful stranger! I hope to meet you there some day
There have been a few of Jake's blogs posts on HN recently, and I find them a hard but somehow rewarding read. He conveys a level of lucid, unsentimental insight into his situation that I find remarkable: not only because I'm sure that in his position I would be petrified into silence. I hope that the remainder of his life is full of love.
Jake's posts remind me of those of Derek Miller [1], who died back in 2011. His final, posthumous post was particularly moving to me.
This comment is pretty much “Tell me you haven’t stared your death, or a loved ones, right in the face without saying it.”
There is a “before” and an “after” regardless of if you survive this type of thing or not. As the parent of a kid that had cancer (in remission a few months ago) we absolutely have those thoughts in those ways.
I was violently beaten by a homeless(?) man under a bridge a few years back. I still remember the feeling of losing consciousness with each blow to the head.
Going out was painful, but each time I "rebooted", I had a fierce joy for being alive.
When his friend pulled him off me, I thanked him. For not killing me, sure, but also for showing me the boundary of life.
> I hope that you don't take this the wrong way (because many people will!), but if that's how you operate, maybe you deserve to die? Vacate that space for somebody who will live it authentically and directly.
I have no idea if Jake reads these or not, but having read both his and his wife's blogs over the last month or two, right after our youngest was (finally) given the all clear for Leukemia:
It is astoundingly hard to read these, having been through something similar (child, not partner). I tried to keep a blog of our experiences, and... it was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. I quietly shuttered it about halfway through, when we had some setbacks and I couldn't bear to write anything.
I'm not sure if I should thank you for posting or not; these posts are both intensely personal and very public I think. I can say that I truly hope they help you and you wife as you work through this.
There is a sentiment shared at a retirement or funeral in the Navy (my chosen career):
15 comments
[ 3.8 ms ] story [ 45.5 ms ] thread"Love isn’t just blind to ugliness, but to decay. Look at two 80-year-olds gazing at each other like teenagers and you’ll know what I mean. When I lose Jake, I’ll lose someone ever seeing me throughout all my ages again."
Have a safe trip to the other side, wonderful stranger! I hope to meet you there some day
Jake's posts remind me of those of Derek Miller [1], who died back in 2011. His final, posthumous post was particularly moving to me.
[1] https://www.penmachine.com/
There is a “before” and an “after” regardless of if you survive this type of thing or not. As the parent of a kid that had cancer (in remission a few months ago) we absolutely have those thoughts in those ways.
Going out was painful, but each time I "rebooted", I had a fierce joy for being alive.
When his friend pulled him off me, I thanked him. For not killing me, sure, but also for showing me the boundary of life.
Having dealt with similar situations on both sides, equating the two is not something that should be done.
Neither should be trivialized, but they should not be equated.
What's the 'right' way to take this? Do tell.
Pharrell Williams said once "There's more space in the negative"
I dont think you get to tell anyone how to use their life. Still less to tell a dying person that "maybe you deserve to die".
And so in your opinion maybe he doesn't deserve life? Give it to someone less cautious?
It is astoundingly hard to read these, having been through something similar (child, not partner). I tried to keep a blog of our experiences, and... it was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. I quietly shuttered it about halfway through, when we had some setbacks and I couldn't bear to write anything.
I'm not sure if I should thank you for posting or not; these posts are both intensely personal and very public I think. I can say that I truly hope they help you and you wife as you work through this.
There is a sentiment shared at a retirement or funeral in the Navy (my chosen career):
Fair Winds and Following Seas.
We have the watch.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jhwZwHaE5JE
I hope there is someone to take whatever it is you consider your "watch" in life.