Whenever someone really famous dies, I sort of brace for impact. Inevitably, someone will say, ominously, “They come in threes, you know.” And sure enough, it would seem that more prominent people die in quick succession.
It was only today that I really bothered to give that statement any thought. How arrogant. How judgmental. Who are we to dictate the to-do list of the grim reaper? Who decides if you’re “famous enough” to make the cut? Are “renowned” deaths any more profound than the death of someone you loved, who impacted your life on a variety of levels but didn’t impact history?
Is there such a thing as a notable death, or a good death, or a worthy death? What “counts”, and why? Is any death truly a tragedy, or is it just another stage in a natural process? Out with the old, in with the new.
One thing is for certain: I spend way too much time in my own head.