One of the more depressing things about the Christmas season is that newspapers are determined to remind us of the number of people who have died during the past year. While the majority of these people have some kind of fame or infamy, and are complete strangers to the most of us, it does make one think about one's own mortality.
Between the ages of comprehension and advanced adulthood – say four to 30 – we know emphatically that we will never die. We can go anywhere, do anything, take risks with life and limb and we know we are invincible. Between the ages of advanced adulthood and the return of incomprehension – say 30 to 80 – we are convinced that we are doomed and that the grim reaper is on his way at any given moment. All it takes is one small mistake, for example leaving the house in winter without a sensible coat and a stout pair of shoes, and it will all be over. Obviously one would imagine that this conviction would be enough to make us avoid any association with death but strangely the opposite happens.
So it is that after a particular birthday it becomes impossible not to buy the Belfast Telegraph each evening for the purpose of turning immediately to the death notices, firstly to check if one is still indeed alive and secondly to see who we know who has not been as fortunate in avoiding said grim reaper. I cannot say exactly what this age is but I suspect it coincides with the urge to wear beige trousers and slip-on shoes with a velcro strap and the need to attend every funeral in the neighbourhood irrespective of whether we know the poor corpse or not.
Of course because we all have lived complex lives it is likely that we will remember few of those we went to school, college or shared an office with in our formative years. This is both a good and a bad thing when poring over death notices. Good in so far as we will recognise few if any of the names on the lists and surmise that few people of our age are actually dying. A bad thing because at that very moment we are also deciding that since we cannot remember any of the names we should remember we do in fact know every other name in the death notices and hence are in the time of life when slipping off the mortal coil is the only rational option.
And as if reading the notices is not enough I have recently discovered the radio equivalent. These are read, in magnificent detail, every day around eleven o'clock on a local radio station. And of course I have come to find them deeply fascinating not only because I have heard of none of the churches where the services are to be held but, more pointedly, because it is another chance to hear if any of my age group have crossed over to the big iPod in the sky.
The corollary of this death notice checking is a fascination with illness. Having donned the beige trousers and the velcro shoes it becomes essential to know what aliments all acquaintances have and to share symptoms with them. This is generally a futile exercise because unfortunately those with the most serious illnesses will have symptoms which thankfully most of us will never share and it becomes deeply insulting to think that our minor aches and pains are in some way comparable.
Having said that I have become intimately engaged with the on-line medical dictionary. This in turn has convinced me that I am suffering from a range of illnesses not known to my doctor because he has only ever worked in a rural community and is not accustomed to dealing with the kinds of urban plagues we who work in Derry or Belfast face on a daily basis. Every itch, twinge, cramp and hint of indigestion has me scurrying back to page two of the Belfast Telegraph oblivious to the fact there is a range of other newspapers (including this one) where people I know are being remembered and celebrated. I suppose this selective search is one way of ensuring that complete depression does not set in.
What I really want to do is go back to a time when death was something that happened to other people who were really old and who I had only heard of because my grandparents once mentioned them while reading the death notices in the paper. If nothing else I need some more time to do a few things which might just get me a mention in the Observer obituary issue but please – can we make it some time in the way distant future?
