Growing Old, Dying, And Still Eating Lunch Alone

As I seemingly embrace my age and my being older than some of my co-workers, I can’t help but accept that as I get older, there will be people, celebrities really, who will slowly be dying off.  It’s all part of the process that is life.  We’re born.  We live.  We die.  It’s all pretty routine really. 

Two more examples of that whole being born, living, and dying thing happened again between yesterday and today, when the world said goodbye to Dr. Ruth Westheimer and Richard Simmons, respectively.  “Dr. Ruth” was an amazing 96-years old, while Simmons died at age 76.  Normally, I would be preoccupied with how they died, but given their respective ages, it really doesn’t matter.  I figure that if this information hasn’t been publicly released yet, it’s only a matter of time before it is all disclosed.  I’m willing to wait.  They were both old up there in age anyway, to where their deaths aren’t too surprising.    

Christina and I had wondered who would be that third celebrity in that sequence, assuming that you believe in the notion that celebrity deaths come in threes.  As time and chance would have it, that third could have been Donald Trump today.  I didn’t follow that story, being that I’m not into politics, but because it was plastered all over the news, I couldn’t seem to avoid even the slightest mention of what happened today during whatever rally or event he was attending.  Not that I’m trying to be funny in this instance, but it would appear that Trump managed to dodge that bullet.  I understand that he’s fine, in that, he wasn’t gravely injured and he’s not currently on his deathbed.  Again, he dodged that bullet.

I really wasn’t intending to harp on this or continue to beat a dead horse, but I guess I’m still trying to process that nonsense of the co-worker opting not to have lunch with me anymore because I’m apparently much too old to eat with her now.  I wasn’t too old last year (which logically, doesn’t make any fucking sense, but this isn’t something I came up with because I have more sense than that), but in 2024, it looks like now it is suddenly a huge deal.  In what could potentially be considered an immature move on my part, my first inclination is to write down all of the negative things about her that I can come up with, all for the sake of justifying why eating lunch with her and even spending time with her truly are no big losses, but that would all come off as petty and childish.  Truthfully, I could see myself writing all of that in a future entry anyway, one that I could see turning into a scathing and biting manuscript.  For the time being, I will refrain. 

I think that’ll do it for this entry.  Death.  Being old.  Dealing with immature co-workers who think age discrimination is okay.  It may not have been as organized as I would have liked, but this was another one of those entries where I’m just grabbing the keyboard and letting the thoughts flow into words, then sentences, and eventually paragraphs. 

Entry done.