The recent deaths of pop icon Michael Jackson and pitchman Billy Mays caught me be surprise. Not that their deaths shouldn’t have been unexpected – they were – and by everyone, not just myself.
No, the problem, and the personal impact, relates to the fact that they were my peers.
OK, so using that term with Michael Jackson is kinda troubling, but the fact is that both he and Billy Mays were right around my age when they both suddenly, and unexpectedly passed away. Both were just shy of 51.
I’m a year older.
Mortality, as I’ve been telling people, is starting to rear its ugly head, and weigh heavily.
MJ’s death is one that I can actually “rationalize away” – meaning absolutely no disrespect to his fans, family or legacy. News reports indicate that not only was he pushing himself excessively hard in preparation for his comeback tour, but there may have been drugs involved. Lots of drugs, it seems. It’s sad that this may be the case, but when comparing my situation to his, it’s an important point of differentiation that allows me to take his death less personally.
I’m not like that.
Billy Mays, on the other hand, is a completely different story.
Here’s a guy that’s a well known celebrity and entrepreneur, who suddenly and without warning drops dead of (reportedly) heart disease.
Uh oh.
Here’s the problem: Like many people, I have risk factors for heart disease.
Looking at Billy Mays, he seemed healthy as he lead an active life.
Until he died, of course.
Did he have warnings? I have no idea. I will say that one of the frustrations in common thinking about heart disease is that all of the warning signs for things like a heart attack are also, and more commonly, simply associated with much more mundane issues – like being overly tired, or the common cold, or having simply stretched a muscle too far. If I’d run to the doctor each time a “possible symptom” cropped up, I’d have been there twice a month … for the last 20 years.
It’s frightening, actually. And having a peer drop dead – perhaps because he misread one of those symptoms – makes it doubly so.
It’d be easy – too easy – to become completely paranoid about every little ache and pain.
Where does this leave me?
Yeah, I’ve been thinking about mortality a lot lately. I know when my time comes there’s little I can do about it, but I’d like that time to be a ways off yet.
I’m trying to do the things I can to push that time out, but it’s damned hard, particularly when so much of the advice is contradictory, impractical, or just plain naive. (“Just lose some weight!” – Excuse me – “just” lose some weight? If only it were that easy.)
So yes, while their deaths were tragic and too early, the reason they’ve hit me as hard has they have isn’t because of who they were, but because of who I am.
Another 50-something, like they were, not ready to die just yet.
Like they did.
Update 07-Aug-2009: Autopsy: Cocaine contributed to Billy Mays’ death – as horrible as that is, it helps. It’s at least one way that his random death has less direct correlation to my life.
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Lord knows how badly he ate when he was on the road or nibbling from the craft service table on a shoot.
Sometimes it’s like a bolt of lightning. I knew a kid in high school. His dad was a sheriff’s deputy, in very good health, had a heart attack and died while walking across a parking lot at the age of 36. At the same time, you see stories of guys who ate bacon and drank whiskey every day, usually between cigars, who lived into their 90s.
You’re taking decent care of yourself and doing the best you can to make sure that if what happened to Billy happens to you, your family will know where all the important papers are and who they need to call. Beyond that, just do your best to enjoy your life.
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