Conversations around death have always been anxiety-inducing for me; however, these last couple of months, I’ve been thinking a lot about both life and death. The birth of a child tends to do that, and Mr. Logan was born about six months ago. In my experience, birth is an extraordinary experience to witness. Like everyone, I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with death; consequently, I’ve been fortunate enough to still have my parents around in my mid-thirties.

My mother is a fighter and a certified badass, although she would never admit it. She’s fought cancer multiple times; anyone who’s been a part of that fight can tell you it’s one hell of a rollercoaster. I understand my role as a support person well; however, being present in every moment has forced me to face the stark reality of our own mortality; my own mortality.

As someone who’s studied the many great pulp writers of the 1920s, I thought about Lovecraft; He was a prolific letter writer, and wrote many to his circle (Lovecraft’s circle) during the death of his mother. It was evident that he found it difficult to accept her death, and he held onto vastly nihilistic beliefs that fueled his cosmic-horror-filled stories. The consequence that we are just mere specks of dust that have no significance within the greater universe. With this belief system, Lovecraft stated on many occasions during his correspondence that his life did not matter, and now that his mother is dead, he could finally take his own life; however, the love to learn and write carried him through, at least in his words, and he never ended up taking his life. Sixteen years later, cancer would kill him. However, as he gained distance from his mother’s death, he became more willing to accept it. Perhaps that’s true in the 21st century, as well.

It is easy to look at the past through the lens of a 21st-century person; however, the visceral feelings of a mother’s death are an intense feeling that is difficult to explain. While I’m still lucky to have her around, her fight with cancer has forced me to take inventory on how I might accept it when the time comes. After all, she is the one who brought me into this world. Consequently, I’ve come up with a few outlooks that I’ve thought about during my brief allbeit spouts of silence in my chaotic life.

I can either reject it and placate all the macomb feelings that are associated with death (makes for great art, right?)

Or;

I can remain present and confront my feelings, and truly be grateful for every moment that I am given with my loved ones (makes for a more stable mind, right?)

None of us truly knows how we feel about intense situations such as this until we are confronted with the harsh reality of the situation we find ourselves in. Remembering to take care of yourself and being happy for the little things in life, perhaps, could offset these intense feelings.

For me, these small wins are as obscure as songs from my favorite movies. In this case, it’s Crash and the Boys. The title of this post was the inspiration I found to write this, and gave me a small allbeit fleeting smile.

My small wins for today. And a big win would still be able to spend time with my mother. I also turned in all my deadlines on time.

Without further ado, Crash and The Boys. Remember to smile at the little things in life.