Remember the man who blinded people with wrinkly nakedness? The really awesome one with a small dog who always wore strange clothes and talked to everyone and was always cheerful and generally awesome?
Yes?Really every time I cycle through
issamel's street I watch out if I see him, but the other night, when I went to pick her up for salsa class, I spotted something else in front of his house, with a lot of small candles. I asked Melissa if she knew what it was and she said maybe there'd been an accident or something, so I turned back around and checked, part of me knowing what I'd find.
It was a huge, colourful umbrella with a chair underneath it and a picture and a small note, explaining that he had passed away on sunday in the hospital, from some disease. There were balloons and stuffed animals and notes from neighbours. One of the notes expressed exactly my feelings -- that even though she didn't really know him, she had always felt inspired by his boldness, by his kindness.
At night I felt sad, so sad, until I realized that there was nothing to be sad about. He brought light into the lives of so many people around him, must have filled so many people with joy and wonder -- how can one be sad about that? Death should be a celebration of life.
"Yes, a hundred minks have been killed for this coat!" he laughs. "But I always bring this, in case they attack me." He flashes a stiletto knife and the woman he's talking to doesn't even look surprised. "Yes, it truly is an awful world, nowadays," he continues. "You can't wear fur, you can't drink, you can't smoke -- the other day my neighbour asked me why I smoke. I said to him: if I drive behind your car, I get lung cancer too. This way it's at least 50% my own fault!" He starts laughing and --once more-- I can't help it: I'm chuckling too.
"Yes, laugh!" he says to us, baring a big set of white teeth. "People always laugh, because they know I'm right!" And I can only imagine how many people he had laughing.
