When someone that we don't know personally dies, what exactly motivates us to mourn? Are we sad because we're reminded that life - particularly ours - will inevitably end, and there is nothing we can do about it? Are we upset because we know that the world will never experience another of their words, songs, or lines of code? Are we empathizing with their family members, who are facing a harsh and irreversible new reality? Some combination of the above?
Hearing Randy Pausch speak at our commencement truly moved me. I was touched to see someone so - whimsical, and so vibrant (in spite of the fact that he was very physically haggard.)
As I attempted to read his book, "Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams" I was struck by a very different note, though. In his book - and I acknowledge that sometimes I am an unfairly harsh judge of character - he came across to me as someone who was deeply, unapologetically, self-centered. I can imagine that a large part of that is simply survival instinct - in order to live as long as Mr. Pausch did in his circumstances, I would think that one does need to be absolutely convinced of the importance of his existence.
That didn't stop me from feeling punched in the gut when I read his admission that giving his "Last Lecture" involved him spending his wife's birthday - the last one she'd EVER get with him - in Pittsburgh, away from her*. Additionally, his preparing to give the Lecture prevented him from helping her with the family's move to Virgina, giving her more work to do as she struggled herself with the fact of his terminal illness. He talked about how upset it made her, and about how, in spite of that, he couldn't bring himself to give up his one last chance in the limelight. Perhaps in the long run it will be better that he gave the talk - certainly it created a legacy that will ensure that he will be remembered quite vividly for a long time. Hopefully his wife is comforted knowing that she gave him one last gift of fulfillment.
Don't mistake what I'm saying: Randy Pausch was, by all accounts, an incredible professor and a wonderful father. His loss will fittingly be mourned by countless people.
I can't get rid of this nagging feeling, though. It's not about Randy per se, although his situation is what made me think of it. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I'm not bothered by his actions (or his wife's) as much as I am about the conflict and tension caused between them as a result. It just makes me feel like it's so easy to take love, and each other, for granted - and for what? It makes me wonder how much people really feel like they "need" others in their lives...sometimes it seems like many of us are so self sufficient and self-driven that the idea of being in love or loving, stop making sense...and that really scares me. (Being loved, of course, always makes sense to us, though...)
I feel like I was brought up in such a different culture than the one I'm living in. We were taught to be "selfless" - and I'm not saying I am, even a little bit - but it seems like we at least had a perspective that involved being somewhat humble, and accepting that sometimes we end up taking on burdens for the sake of others. In college I was exposed to a much more individualistic and independent lifestyle, in which many people seemed so self-reliant (and self centered) to the point that they were completely uninvested in any sort of altruistic behavior. I'm not saying that it was a bad thing, necessarily - many of them have been (or will be) extremely successful and live solid, balanced, lives according to a reasonable system of values. It just made me feel like I didn't quite belong, kind of like I was obsolete. Reading about Randy Pausch's lifestyle made me feel quite the same way - even though, like I said, it has nothing to do with the man himself, may he rest in peace.
*She did manage to fly out for the lecture itself, given that day, though.
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