The King Is Dead
Luciano Pavarotti died of pancreatic cancer. He was 71. Even the King of the High ‘C’s dies. No one is spared. No one. I never gave much thought to it, but when I heard the great Pavarotti is dead, I couldn’t believe it. Not that I really loved the guy, but I in a sense took his life for granted. He was famous, rich, with a glorious voice…yet he dies. I don’t know how else to explain it but this famous man who captured the hearts and attention of so many stopped living. His lifeless body is somewhere, but his life i gone. His flame snuffed out.
I’m reminded of the brevity of human life. The fragility of human life. "10 out of 10 die". That’s the ultimate statistic. The truth. It’s, in a way, correct to say that we’re all dying. "Every heartbeat is the the drumbeat to your own funeral march" I recall someone saying.
With death comes a torrent of important questions. Afterlife? Heaven? Hell? God or no God? Legacy? etc. It’s good to think about such things, gloomy as it may be. Cause I think these times are moments of clarity where we realize what matters and what doesn’t. What’s the real and what’s not. Better seize such moments before we slip back into our own subjective realities.
