Trauma Drama
GSTAAD—Lord Belhaven and Stenton, a wonderful man and the quintessential English gentleman, died at 93 just before the end of the crappiest of years, but Robin was lucky in a way. No tubes, no hospital beds, not another Chinese virus statistic. His widow, Lady Belhaven, gave me the bad news over the telephone, and although she was devastated after a very long and happy marriage, she is very smart and realizes that it was a perfect death. He asked for a gin and tonic, went to bed, and never woke up.
Acknowledging the death of others is one thing, accepting one’s own demise another. That’s why old men send young men to die in war, a confidence trick perfected after the Napoleonic Wars. Greek and Roman generals led from the front, as did many kings who followed. Prince Bagration died in the Battle of Borodino, Sir Thomas Picton in Waterloo; Prince General Blucher, age 73, had two horses shot from under him while charging to save the day for Wellington. I suppose one’s immortality lives on in those you’ve touched, and, in turn, they live on if they’ve touched you. Death is the force that shows you what you love most and wish most to continue living. Remembering those who died makes them immortal.