Three boys died by the train tracks on Sunday morning. On the same tracks I crossed an hour before their deaths while drunkenly laughing at the danger of it. The same tracks I marveled at more than a year ago, stone and cold and alone.

I don't want to do this. I don't want to talk about death but so many thoughts I supressed and push away are intimidating me this morning. This doesn't make much sense and it goes back many years and somehow I see it al. I don't want to write any of this because it will come out more dramatic then intented, but it needs to come out. So here it goes.

Being the little over thinker I was, at four years old, I went through an existentialist crisis and was forced to face my own mortality at the movie theatres. I was not aware of this at the time; all I knew was that Mufasa died and that was a huge deal.

It was November of 1994, my birthday had just passed, my leg survived a really bad case of poison ivy, I had just seen a psychiatrist and done an IQ test that would determine whether or not I would get to start kindergarten the following fall. My father decided to celebrate by taking me to watch The Lion King which had been playing for over three months and received great reviews.

We took the city bus to the movie theatre, and I remember a man generously giving up his seat for me because I was suffocating under a bundle of three scarves, my brother’s oversized coat, a hat and earmuffs. As we walked to the movie theatre from the bus station, the cold sneaked into my boots and slid down to immobilize my little toes. The theatre was crowded, but since my father had brought his own snacks, we avoided waiting in the long food line and found great seats at the top. It was my first time being so high above everyone else, and I decided that I loved it and can easily get comfortable in such a position. The movie started and I danced to songs, laughed and slapped my knee because that’s what the grown-ups did on television when something was unbearably funny. And then the lion died. I know it wasn't so sudden and there was a build-up to it, but at the time I don't remember any of that. It hit me like a freight train and anything previous to that

I waited a few moments because I thought it might be a cruel joke, but he died and left Simba fatherless. I turned to my father and whispered “Pethane?” He looked alarmed and took a moment to answer me. What he did next would be the tipping point to the following events. He looked at me and despite lacking the ability to speak proper English, he said in his thick Greek accent “No, he only sleeping, not dead.” Apparently the word “dead” can grab just as many children’s attention as the bell on the ice cream truck. The whole theatre, in unison, turned to look at my father and I. When some of the children began to panic, I heard their parents try to comfort them and reassure them that Mufasa was actually sleeping. This worked wonders and the movie theatre became quiet again.

I had let my father lie to me because I loved him, but I couldn’t bear to watch all these children falling for the obvious lies of their parents. And so, I took off my boots and stood on the cushioned seat (I still has some manners). “They are lying to you! The grown-ups are lying! The lion, he died! He’s not sleeping!” I yelled surprisingly loud for a four year old who looked like she just turned two. In the next minute, I had the whole movie theatre stirred up again; mothers were yelling, children were crying, adults were shifting in their seats trying to keep their kids contained. I, on the other hand, took pleasure in knowing that I had caused so much distraught, because it would not be fair if I was the only one dealing with the realization that humans are actually mortals and death can happen anywhere and at anytime. My father tried to get me to sit down, but by the time I had calmed down, the usher asked my father and I to leave for disturbing the peace in the movie theatre.

Death took away all the power I thought I had by being seated so high up. It crushed my little spirit. It was very unlike me to behave in such a way, but perhaps I only did it because I had stumbled upon a truth that I felt was necessary to share. I wanted the rest of the world to understand the permanence of death the same I way I had just understood it. I would do anything to get my message across even if it meant not seeing the end of the Lion King.