A Eulogy for Alaska Young
I moved here to seek the grander maybes in life, so I didn't have to wait until I died to find them with some ridiculous bucket list. I wanted a less than minor life. Alaska Young embodied the Great Perhaps for me and with her death I thought I had lost my faith in them. For a while I had this anger built up inside of me. How could she come into my life, change me, and then leave? Didn't I matter at all? I spent so long unable to understand why she left me that it sheltered my anger at myself for letting her leave. I should have told her to sober up, get some sleep, and go at a reasonable hour. But I never did know how to say no to her. It wasn't just me either; it was the Colonel and Takumi. We would have to live with our decisions the day, all the things we did wrong because we didn't know better. But the thing about knowing better is that you don't until knowing better in useless. There's no sugarcoating it, she deserved better friends. We screwed up and she slipped through our fingers.
Time passed though, as it usually did when you'd give anything for it to slow. I could feel her slipping from memory, dying again. I struggled desperately to remember the taste of wine on her lips, or the way her hips swayed when she walked, or the endless curves of her body like mountain hilltops. While my memory of her slowly slipped away, I can say that my memories with her were engraved into my mind. All my best stories begin with Alaska and I… But people I think have grown wry of hearing of them.
So here is my last story. Alaska and I walked by the lake on the second day we had ever spoken to each other. She asked me a question and these were her words exactly "that's the mystery, isn't it? Is the Labyrinth living or dying- the world of the end of it?" I tried to answer it a few times before, but she never liked my answers, but I think I've finally got it. I used to think the only way out was to pretend the Labyrinth didn't exist, but I was wrong, the Labyrinth isn't living or dying, it suffering. And the only way out of the Labyrinth of suffering is to forgive. So I'll forgive her and I'll also forget, but she will have forgiven me for that too. I could have let this ruin me, but I've seen the path that led her on ever since she watched her mother die as a child. So despite her death, I still believe in the Great Perhaps. The truth is, is I don't know if Alaska killed herself and maybe I will never will know if I helped her to her own self destruction. But I forgive her for leaving just as she forgives me for letting go.
So here is my piece of advice, I guess every speech should have one. Never let someone leave your side without telling them how you feel and when you look up and find yourself in a maze of suffering, let go, just forgive. I will never know her last words or last thoughts, but not knowing won't keep me from caring. I always hated concluding paragraphs, I basically repeat what I've already said, but if you weren't listening then, you probably still aren't listening now. So even though I can't leave you with her last words, I can leave you with someone elses. Thomas Edison's last words were its beautiful over there. I don't know where there is, but I believe its somewhere and I hope it's beautiful.