Gone

Saturday, April 2, 2005 -
Ap�sl�min ida corbalanyrtne 'ls�o rohl'daathi�m v� nen�a iroyss�rd.

So the pope is dead.

Good.

That was my first thought, and it was pretty damn meaningless, because good or bad, dead or alive, I don't really care about the pope, except on the general principle that I wish for the end of any life to be quick and painless. But I've not been thinking much about the pope, partly because, well, it's not needed, is it? He had plenty of people thinking 'bout him these last couple a' days. Millions praying for him, thousands standing in his front yard waiting for the announcement of his death, every news organization in the world with its own twenty-four hour deathwatch, with the palpable intent of making sure You Hear It Here First at the very moment the pope's demise becomes official. All over the planet, leaders of nations, great and small, have begun to declaim their public condolences. So, yeah, I figure in the midst of this global buzz of mourning, my two cents will be absolutely superfluous.

Instead, when I catch myself thinking 'bout the pope dying, I think of all those other people who've been dying, and who died today, without fanfare. How many people die every day on this planet? Millions? People who suffered their deaths in pain and fear, some of them were good people, better than the pope, did less damage, did more good. But good or bad�and who are we to judge?�they were out there, somewhere, and today they went away from us forever, as complete strangers, dying quietly and unknown and ignored.

<~>
Ap�sl�min ida corbalan� 'lse nesgla ugar�-cham sa cru ogrulho bat�oltha al�mv�sde.

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