Cliché of the Day: Death

Or not. Perhaps the language used regarding death is what gives off that stench of cliché. Passed on. Empty. Gap. Will be missed. The person who . . . fillintheblankwithsomething-positive. In a better place. So unexpected. So unfortunate. So heart-breaking.

And yes, Professor Vande Kopple’s death was unexpected. While pancreatic cancer tends to be a death sentence, a week isn’t enough time on death row. Then Bob died in surgery—unfortunate. His health considered, not surprising. Unfortunate. Gordon’s murder? Yes, heart-breaking.

Cold-blooded: a favored cliché to describe the actions of murderers and perhaps transferable to cancer. Except cancer doesn’t have blood. The cliché is that cancer sucks. Well. No shit. Murderers? Are people. People who murder? Aren’t cold-blooded, uncaring. Someone cared quite a bit about Gordon. Sure as heck wish s/he wouldnt’ve. But even a sociopath has some splintered sliver of light inside.

Three deaths and three staph infections: the great and the insignificant. Shall that describe 2013? Two births and two saving graces: Ashlyn and Eva, Debra and Irene. Shall these describe 2013? 

Or rather, indebted to the Book of Common Prayer: “. . . to have and to holde from this day forwarde, for better, for woorse, for richer, for poorer, in sickenes and in health, to love and to cherishe, til death us departe . . .”