I just finished a book called Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow.

Well, to say I finished it is a bit of an exaggeration… 

I’m not sure if this is a common thing, or a me thing or maybe an ADHD thing. 


Probably a combination of all of them…

But sometimes when I know what’s going to happen next, it’s absolute torture for me to have to sit through everything that has to happen before that thing that I know is going to happen and its inevitable resolution at the end of the book. Especially or maybe even because, “the thing” is usually THE bad thing. 

And that happened to me right around chapter 22 and as soon as we started chapter 23. 

And when that happens…

I know the story is over for me

I read summaries and skip to the end when I’m right. 

If I’m wrong, I’m never disappointed that I skipped ahead.

I know there are a lot of people who find what I do, appalling. Perhaps even disrespectful or irreverent for the artists’ work. 

I can’t necessarily disagree. 



But there is enough drama and nuance of pain to experience in the real world that I have no qualms with picking and choosing my battles when they are elective. 


Besides, endings are sometimes just like the beginning of a book to me. Something I think this book understands. The last chapter is like a book’s second chance with me, much like the back cover is to me when the front cover of a book fails to provide enough information for me to take if of the shelf. 



In the end, this book covers so much it’s hard not to be amazed actually. I think if I were to pick out a word to describe what this book has spoken to me, it’s “spectrums.”


Spectrums of relationships, sexism, culture, racism, disability, abuse, ambition, generation, shame, grief, parenthood, identity, pride, death, consumerism, power, commercialism. It even touches on gun violence and abortions. 



Sometimes there is no good guy or bad guy. You just do as much as you can with the rest of the life you have. And there are fights you can’t win, but there are also fights that you can, and you won’t know which is which unless you try. 


Did I like it?... I don't know. Would I recommend it? Yeah... I probably would.

This book is a bit like the period of your life you never want to revisit.
The part of your life that was unexplainably painful.
But also filled with nostalgia and flecks of beauty.
The part of your life you learned the most from.

And so I don't regret reading it. I also don't regret skipping over half of it.
But it is wonderfully written. Full of game references and philosophical questions and concepts. Characters and stories are well depicted, hidden, revealed... beyond my intelligence and I am grateful for my time with it.

There's a line in Hamilton that spoke to a deep seated part of me that I rarely discuss.

"I imagine death so much it feels just like a memory"

It's less that I would imagine manners of dying. Just the concept of it and its inevitability.

When I was at a young age, I was so convinced that I would never make it to high school graduation.
I can't tell you exactly why, it's not like I really ever did anything especially risky.
But for some reason, I was just convinced my life would end before then.
No fear, no sadness.
Just a fact.
Perhaps even an acceptance.

Perhaps if I try to dig deeper into it, maybe it had something to do with the idea that I just couldn't believe in a future for myself. 
Color me surprised when I reached senior year and had to think about my future beyond, applying for colleges I never thought to care about, for a career I never truly believed I'd have.
I distinctly remember reading a book series and realizing that the final book would not be released until the next year, the summer after my graduation, and sitting there in surprise that I'd made it this far. 

Things have changed now.
I'm curious for the future, while I can't see what it looks like, I expect it to be there and wonder what it will reveal.
But death has never left me.
Despite every milestone I cross.

It walks with me, almost like a stray cat.
It keeps me company on my walk through the woods.
It weaves its way in and out of the trees,
sometimes walking beside me,
sometimes preferring to stay hidden,
sometimes disappearing into the brush.
Some days it leaves a dead bird on my doorstep.
A gift perhaps.

In some ways I started to welcome death.
The final release of responsibility and my sorrows for the world.
To not have to hunger for healing or nourishment or fulfillment. 

But I made a deal with myself a long time ago, never to seek death out for myself.
In some ways... in my mind death has become something I must earn. 

I fear pain as much as any other sane person in the world. Perhaps more.
But death itself...
My fear, is dying when I haven't earned it.
Caught unprepared, my oil lamp empty. 

I fear the words I wouldn't have said to those I've left behind.
I fear the troubles I might leave for them.
I fear leaving behind a void rather than a filled cup for them to cherish and savor beyond my existence. 

I fear the pure fact of my arrogance for these ambitions.

I fear loss to some extent, though I don't always admit it.
I fear the pain that death can cause for the living.
I fear the intimacy of death, the messiness of it, the decay.
The reckoning with an empty shell. 

I fear death for others, because they either despise it out of fear or rush towards it without thought. 

Perhaps the image of death with a scythe is actually the closest to my mental imagery of it.
But the scythe they draw with death is not the weapon. It's the tool.
It demands respect. But acts without malice.

If I should die before I wake...

I hope those around me know without doubt, that I loved them. To whatever extent. That I saw them and I loved them. 

I hope that I've added enough to their lives without being a loss when I'm gone. 

That my absence is familiar and almost comforting. 

That they smile when they think of me. 

That it doesn't hurt if I'm gone. 

That I genuinely gave them something good in some way at some point. 

I hope you know I admired you. 

I hope you know that you're beautiful and I was so happy you existed. 

That your existence gave me so much comfort. I was so content just knowing we lived in the same world together. And I only hoped you were living well. 

That I learned so much from you even if I couldn't show you and you didn't see it. And I wish I could tell you every single thing so you would know. 

I hope you believe it of yourself. And of me. That I truly found you to be something to be grateful for and I was so happy to have met you. 

...I pray the Lord my soul to take.