“What is?”
“Life and dying. The sweet release of death will eliminate so many discomforts such as all the physical pain one endures and the mental anguish and the constant nuisances. Imagine never having to hear anyone chew their food loudly again. Bliss.”
“Yes that’s one side of it. But look at all you miss. Music for one. No more Bach. How sad. And playing with grandchildren and dining at good restaurants —”
“Ahh but ingestion. Especially when it keeps you up half the night. So many more foods cause so much more unpleasantness for me than they used to. Health in general has become so dicey as I age. I’m forever having to go to the doctor about one thing or another. Yesterday it was a rash. Last month I had a painful bunion. Before that it was a twisted ankle. I’m not even counting the trips to the dentists.”
“My you have a bleak view of things. Aren’t you happy at all anymore? Surely you must be.”
“Oh I very much enjoy things like this, meeting a good friend for lunch. Sometimes a cup of tea at the right time makes it all seem perfect. Emma and I are happy together. So no, I’m not totally miserable. It’s just that I’m far less happy than when I was young.”
“I believe we all are. There’s no replacing the exuberance of youth, that feeling that you can and will do everything. But now we’ve got so much more wisdom, we have experience with the world and are infinitely more knowledgable.”
“I’d trade wisdom and knowledge to be twenty-one again, enjoying romances, playing sports, free of aches, pains and gripes.”
“Well the fact is, you can’t. That’s what we’ve all got to live with.” “
"I’ve come to hate living with it.”
“That’s the route to misery, to rue what you don’t and can’t have. You’ve so much and so many people would envy you, but all you can do is wish for the impossible.”
“You’re absolutely right. Perhaps I should just top myself.”
“Don’t joke about things like that. I don’t find it funny at all.”
“Who’s joking? I’m merely weighing options.”
“If you consider suicide an option then you need psychiatric help.”
“I should think you’d know that I’m already getting it — for all the bloody good it does me. Fifty minutes a week of me nattering on and him nodding until he inevitably says, 'Im afraid that's all our time for today.' Anyway I’m not serious about offing myself. Haven’t the guts.”
“I don’t think that killing oneself is a mark of bravery. It’s an act of desperation for a mind that can find no options.”
“Anyway, I couldn’t do it to Emma. She still needs me and it would devastate the children and their children. I’m afraid the world is stuck with me and I with it.”
“I for one am glad. I worry about you being so despondent that you find it difficult to appreciate life.”
“Oh I appreciate life, all right. I’ve just come to recognize that shuffling off this mortal coil will have its advantages.”
“I suppose that since it’s inevitable that can be a somewhat healthy approach. Still one shouldn’t long for death.”
“I regret having introduced this morbid topic. I suppose it reflects my state of mind today. I’m sorry you didn’t catch me on one of my more cheerful days.”
“It’s quite all right, especially if our lunch together has made you feel the slightest bit better.”
“It has indeed. I always feel better when we’ve been together. My God, Charles it’s been 42 years since we met at university.”
“You’re wrong there, mate, 44.”
“Has it? My god you’re right.”
“That’s a long friendship.”
“It is and I’ve enjoyed it. How can one contemplate suicide with such a good friend.”
“Dear me, Gordon, you’re getting quite sentimental now.”
“You know, I'll take that as a compliment.”
“Well then you’re welcome.”
“As are you.”
"Cheers."
"Cheers."
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