Mortal Thoughts

A nod to the late Christopher Reeve in a fellow blogger's recent entry has sparked this one, though on an entirely different note.

I got to thinking about mortality a lot this week. Not just about death in general, but specifically my own. There comes a time in all our lives when dying hits a little too close to home, so to speak. It creeps up on you --e.g. the odd grand-relative's passing -- then before you know it, you've lost a whole bunch of aunts and uncles, your parents hit their 60s, and you start contemplating whether to check your blood glucose and cholesterol levels ( my turn's this Sunday at an NKF event, heh heh ).

But for me, reality bites most when celebrities start dropping like flies.

10 years ago, River Phoenix, that golden boy of the 1990's who would've been Leonardo DiCaprio's toughest competition, collapsed from a drug overdose outside The Viper Room. Barely into his 2nd decade of life, with an Oscar nomination under his belt and a well-received turn as young Indiana Jones, his star had never shone brighter. From gritty performances in Stand By Me and My Own Private Idaho, to heartbreaking roles in Little Nikita and Running On Empty, the premature snuffing-out of such a promising life hit me hard. I was only 15 or 16 at the time.

Over the years, so many others have followed that I can't recall most of their names offhand. Childhood favourites, however, always touch a sensitive nerve -- John Ritter, John Candy, etc. How I will miss them.

But Reeve... he has always had a special spot in my heart. Superman was one of the first films I ever saw, and thanks to him, I found out what a crush is at the tender age of 6. The fact that he wore leotards and a cape held no significant meaning at the time. :)

13 years ago, when he met with that terrible accident, everything almost came to a complete standstill for me. And over the past decade, as the once athletic giant slowly shrivelled in his wheelchair, I realized how quickly time had flown right by us.

Earlier this month, my mother heard on TV that Michael J. Fox, who's suffered from Parkinson's Disease since his 20s, is now experiencing intractable tremors despite aggressive medical treatment. Like Reeve, Fox is a childhood favourite of mine. I grew up with Family Ties, watched every single episode of the Back To The Future trilogy multiple times, memorized lines from The Secret Of My Success, applauded his more serious works ( Casualties Of War ), and forgave his mistakes ( Life With Mikey, The Hard Way, Doc Hollywood ).

A fierce advocate for stem cell research ( like Reeve ), he was prominently seated beside Teresa Heinz Kerry at the 3rd US Presidential Debate, looking slightly haggard but still extremely boyish. I couldn't help wondering when his time would come. And as an extrapolation, mine as well.

During dinner with a friend the other night, I was told to "live my life to the fullest" before it's too late. An outdoor enthusiast who's done so much more than I could ever imagine for myself, he couldn't believe his ears when I related details of my own boring life. And with my 30th birthday looming ( June 2005 ), I do realize I've missed out on many opportunities, partly because of parental anxiety, but ultimately, I think, a result of my own fears and insecurities.

Is it too late to change old habits, I wondered. At the moment, the answer is, sadly, yes. Family commitments deter me from commiting random acts of outright recklessness, but things may very well change once I'm beholden to no-one. Although my mother always says she'll turn in her grave should I choose to go down this path after her demise. Guilt trip, aargh!

Still, on deeper reflection, I admit I'm content, restrictions and all. I'm grateful for parents and relatives who love me unconditionally, for old friends whom I can always depend on, for a successful career with exciting opportunities, a botched relationship that terminated before it had the chance to imprison me in an eternity of misery. I treasure every moment I spend with my parents, every holiday we take together, and all the wonderful places we've visited as a threesome. I revel in the joy of weddings, even if my own seems a distant dream. I soak in every experience, be it a great piece of music, a tasty morsel of food, or (ahem) holding Jamie Cullum's hand within my own. :D

My car shakes on a daily basis as I blast my hi-fi, I get chills every single time I eat an ice-cream sundae, and nothing -- NOTHING -- makes me happier than an afternoon at home with a good book and my beautiful cat on my lap ( excluding all the usual mushy stuff, that is ). Missing out on the really good things in life? Methinks that's a matter of opinion. :)

Although sometimes, routine can be a dangerous thing. Having lost touch with the going-out concept for the past 5 years, I'm finally taking a plunge of sorts, and have started hanging out with different people who appeal to me in different ways. So far, it's been rewarding, and I'm grateful that these friends ( I hate the word "dates" ) have given me their time and attention, yet refrained from making demands on my personal space. It's been the total opposite of the first and only relationship I've had thus far. If only I'd known better all those years ago. :/

Life is short, but mine's been a happy one so far, and hey, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Besides, I think I've still got a few surprises coming my way -- whether good or bad, I welcome them. In the end, I think the trick to facing mortality head-on is being happy with the time you've been given, instead of the regretting the things you missed out on. On that count, I'm pretty sure I've already won. :)