A Deck's Face Cards (cont'd...)
by James K. Noble, Staff Writer

Although B.I.G. died, he did not fade away with death. He lives on because of the life he led. I remember having the CD in my hands a few days after its release. The jacket art mesmerized me. Christopher Wallace was dead and I had his passion in my possession. I carried it to the cashier; it was so vastly different from carrying a casket. The CD was heavy to bear and I felt such grief; I wore it on my face as I paid the insignificant amount of money. "Life after Death" went platinum that year, selling millions and millions of copies nationwide. Associates shouted his name out in love, radio stations circulated his new songs, and dedications were made in his name via song and word. The Brooklyn rapper was far from dead; the memory of the Notorious one, the music, the person, could never die. This was the first time I realized that life after death might exist. We all die, but is it final? That is to say, does our perspective of death alter what it means to die? Furthermore, how does it then affect our will to live? The idea of the funeral troubles me now. A body is placed into a casket, and family and friends say their goodbyes. The service at church lasts about 45 minutes, as if it were trying to compress and simplify the deceased's vast lifetime experiences. There is a code of behavior to follow, mourner and pallbearer alike; the color scheme is black, the appearances are neat, the tones are hushed, and the mood is gloomy. Death is a scary idea, so we try to place rules and regulations to comfort ourselves. We try to take one of the most powerful forces in the universe and seal it in a box.

I no longer see death as the Grim Reaper. The sickle that he uses to cut down people's lives need not apply anymore. I still work as a pallbearer once in awhile, but I no longer believe the rituals represent death completely. The Notorious B.I.G. has taught me that one can conquer death in the memory of word and deed. Death is all these things; to say it just simply ends life would cheat it of its true glory.

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I no longer see death as the Grim Reaper. The sickle that he uses to cut down people's lives need not apply anymore.

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If my father told me about death when I was a child, I would never have fully grasped the concepts. Children do not want the paradoxes of dual natured topics to confuse things. Some adults to this day do not want the complications that arise from the expansive notion of death. When I carried the casket for the first time, I used all the muscles in my arms to come to terms with death. Now I realize that death has infinite muscle, ultimately greater than mine, which can add important strengths and meaning to my own mortality.

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