tombstones

I watched Tombstone yesterday and cried through it. I cried over the friendship between Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp. Doc, dying of tuberculosis, never misses a fight along side his friend.

Wyatt: Doc, this isn't your fight.
Doc: You've got a hell of a lot of nerve saying that to me.

Man in Posse: Doc, you should be in bed. Why do you do it?
Doc: Wyatt Earp's my friend.
Man: Hell, I got lots of friends.
Doc: I don't.

Doc passes out in the saddle from exposure and exhurtion. He is left behind when Wyatt goes to do battle one-on-one with Johnny Ringo. Wyatt leaves him out of love, and for the same reason Doc beats Wyatt to the rendezvous and dispatches with Ringo first. The battle costs him and he goes to Colorado to a sanitorium to die. Wyatt comes every day, on the last of which he gives Doc a present before dealing out the cards for poker, but Doc doesn't want to play anymore. Yet, before he dies, he takes care fo his friend.

Doc Holliday: What do you want Wyatt?
Wyatt Earp: Just to live a normal life.
Doc Holliday: There is no normal life, there's just life, ya live it.
Wyatt Earp: I don't know how.
Doc Holliday: Sure ya do, say goodbye to me, go grab that spirited actress and make her your own. Take that and don't look back. Live every second, live right on through the end. Live Wyatt, live for me. Wyatt, if you were ever truly my friend, or if ya ever had just the slightest of feelin' for me, leave now, leave now, please.
Wyatt Earp: Thanks for always being there, Doc.

After Wyatt leaves, Doc sees a pamphlet-style book entitled My Friend Doc Holliday by Wyatt Earp. Doc smiles and dies alone without anyone to hold his hand. I wept watching that, watching how the two men loved each other, and hurt themselves for the other. I watched the last scene and decided that I do not want to die alone. What if my tombstone didn't read "beloved wife and mother"? I can't stand the idea that I'll have no one to hold my hand as I face death. Someone once said that (probably) that it is not the manner in which you die but the manner in whih you live that matters. In that case I want someone to hold my hand as I face life. I want a friend like Doc, who will always be there.

rain

When it rains I feel a symphony. I love rain because, unlike the soaking from submerging, the sensations come individually, a drop here, a splash there. As each contact with the skin is made, an indistinguishable note comes forth. Disney's Bambi captures the effect. As I walk in the rain I feel the music, as each little piece of the storm joins in with the others. The flute, the violin, the cello, the kettle drum; when it snows, the large soft flakes sound like an oboe. It's a magic thing walking in the rain, hearing the comforting drip of water on the surrounding surfaces, and imagining the echo of the orchestra.