Ghosts, and other creatures in my life

Let me start by saying that I am indebted to Ian Rankin for, not only the immense pleasure his books have given me over the years, but his concept of ghosts surrounding his main character, John Rebus. As Rebus gets older his private moments are more and more dominated by the 'presence' of people who have been part of his life but are alive no more, to the point where he finds it difficult to get a peaceful night's sleep in his bed but sleeps in an armchair instead. While not quite at this Rebus stage yet, I find that my life is very much populated by my ghosts, all the wonderful people who were important to me in one way or another but are no longer physically present.

I dare say that Rankin's concept is not necessarily original - I would think that many others have expounded on this over the years in one form or another and I have missed it - but it doesn't matter to me one way or the other, as his writing has made it accessible to me. Philosophers, no doubt, have grappled with similar concepts, as have the believers of the supernatural; alas I am not among them. The original source doesn't worry me, the concept itself, though, I find absorbing.

Like the fictitious Rebus I am no longer young and have lived an active life. Many, many people have played important roles, some unknowingly, but have now gone forever, existing in my mind as my ghosts. To some I owe debts of gratitude, to others apologies, but to all I am forever indebted for enriching my life, which is why they are often on my mind. Unlike Rebus I have little guilt, hardly life and death stuff, so there is little torment other than light self-flagellation, wishing I had been able to have been a better friend/son/lover, always there in the right way when needed.

As life takes its natural toll my ghostly community increases by the day and not just by people of previous generations - only a couple of weeks ago I lost two friends suddenly and in rapid succession, leaving me shocked and upset, a tad lonelier. One was a classmate from school, a successful actor, fit and healthy, the other an ex-supplier slightly younger than me; both died suddenly.

Lots of my favourite authors have also died, taking with them their creations. These creations had become part of my life, 'friends' to me in a strange but real sort of way, as I patiently waited for our next meeting; now with many of them that can only take place in my head (or in the future...???), as they have accompanied their creator down to Hades.

My ghosts are with me as I write this, with me as I go to bed, more lively at night but never absent during the day. My life, my ghosts.