To die together

I always said myself, that the most difficult, in the death, it was the solitude. We go away and everybody stays. Moreover, we ignore where we go. And people who stay do not know it either. It is a goodbye on a platform. We are alone in an empty train, the destination of which is indicated nowhere. Neither on the car, nor on the ticket. We are conscious that the persons to whom we make a small movement of goodbye, will join us some day in this place of which none of us knows the name or the place, which does not maybe exist, but they do not seem urging to make it. By diverse subterfuges, they will delay at most the moment of our reunion by reducing their consumption of alcohol and tobacco, rolling less faster with the car, wearing a helmet on the bike, eating 5 organic fruits a day, jogging. These deaths that we loved, who wait for us and that we apply to make dawdle. I would soon have more dead friends than irritated friends, it is about it that we recognize that a Leo has just celebrated its 43rd birthday. The only possibility not to be alone the day of its death, it is to be among the victims of an air crash or a wreck. There is also an bus accident. Or the collective suicide like with the Solar Temple but it is difficult to find fifteen or twenty friends crazy enough to kill themselves the same day. There is also the war. Is it not this craze of people for the war, from prehistory to our days, due to the perspective not to die alone ? Few places are less sad than a military cemetery filled with dead boys together. They give the impression to live together. Their youth and their good-companionship seem to have been preserved in their grave. The drama of Titanic fascinates us because, during two hours, a community of several hundreds of persons built up itself : the one who had not found a place aboard lifeboats. She has just died, the last survivor of the Titanic. On April 15th, 1912, she was 2 months old. There are never survivors. I dream about these deaths, not separated from the flight AF447 and crashed in the Atlantic. What feelings had they any for the others in the minute when they died together? The fury? The condolence? The tenderness? Was there a moment, in the death, where the fear is crossed and where we arrive at the other place ? The passengers of the Airbus A330 are more united between them than they had been with the other human beings throughout their life, they share with 227 strangers the non transmissible experiment of the death. Every time I go in a plane, I look at the other travelers and say to me that I shall end maybe my life with them. I try to find in all of them something special and it works, because everybody has something special, even me. I think of the sense of guilt which the parents of the flight Rio-Paris had to their children whose ticket they had paid. In the last crazy love glance of the husband to his wife that he believed not to love any more or to love less. In the smile of the friend to the friend. The millions of split concerns : health, house, taxes, examinations. All these modest, careful and attentive existences destroyed in one minute as it will be ours in some seconds, if we live old. The biggest human community is the community of deaths, because the living human is in perpetual disappearance. There is no morality in this, it is necessary not to do any morality.