I went to the Daily Grind this morning to read the paper. When I turned the page to the obituaries, for some strange reason, I started to cry. The lead obituary was for Bernie Mac whose show I never cared for, but it wasn't his death that saddened me. I got sad simply reading the heading at the top of the page.
I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's because now calling myself Piper feels really strange. Piper's gone, I guess.
I like reading obituaries. Some of the best ones are people who have succeeded at unusual things. None of them ever take an ordinary path to arrive at their success. Their lives are usually full of adventure, risk and failure. I take comfort from their stories that my atypical path through life isn't wrong even if it hasn't reaped me any marvelous success.
Maybe I felt sad because I've achieved a success that always hung out of reach in some far off future and now I don't know where to go next. Maybe the pressure at home to return to my conformist previous life was bothering me. Maybe the word reminded me of the Middle Earth I discovered on the trail and how I'm not there anymore but not really here yet, either.