Death may be like finding out the kettle is
whistling before you’ve had a chance to prepare the coffee grinds because
you’re busy doing something at the sink. Oh Kat, up until the last day you lost
your fight you never left the kitchen long enough to realize you were disappearing.
When I think of Kat there’s a quote from Macbeth that comes to mind. The line,
spoken by a minor character, occurs at the start of the play and refers to the
death of the Thane of Cawdor: Nothing
in his life became him like the leaving it. Cawdor has his tangle with
the grim reaper, loses of course, but comes out smelling like a rose. The same
fate awaits Macbeth- in essence, it’s life as a series of moats, crossbows, the
occasional and inevitable ferocious battle, after which you expire, and in some cases, nobly.
What does all this have to do with Kat? This may
be a far cry from a Shakespearean tragedy, I definitely am a minor character on
the world stage, and in essence it’s just the story of an ordinary woman. But
along with the noble strivings and cruel smites of destiny, it did occur to me
that Kat’s demise was like a twisted version of that very sentiment from Act I,
only in reverse- it seemed
nothing “became” Kat’s family so much as her departure from it. That
is not to say they were “evil” and certainly not overly ambitious, as in truth
they mostly liked to hang out and get high. But did they really have to soak up
all those condolences in the same stupid, smiley, self-centered, mindless way in
which they sucked the life out of her?
You’re probably wondering what I mean by that allegation, so let me begin at the beginning. . . .
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