Have you ever thought about death?

As I was lying on my bed this afternoon, trying to calm myself down from another tantrum cycle, I realized that I am, sooner or later whichever comes first, going to die whether I’m ready or not. That realization was coupled with a feeling of both fear and surrender. I have always thought about death. I’m not like other people who have apprehensions when it comes to death. I don’t believe that talking about my death may, by some bizarre reason jinx my life. I think primarily, the thing that really made me afraid as I lay down there thinking about death, was basically the fact-ness of death. It animated my understanding of my own mortality—my not really being indestructible, that someday, I really am going to die. I never really gave much thought to that even if I always talked about death. I somehow went past that and just continued living my life as though I am an immortal person. The surrender came because I guess I just had to succumb to the fact that there really is no way out of this one. This is not some freak occurrence that happens to really inauspicious people. It happens to everyone.
What bothers me though is that 1)what would really happen to me when I die? In church, I’m taught that physical death is just the birth of our spiritual bodies. I believe this, however ridiculous this idea might seem to other people. But I’m not fully convinced. Of course, dying is not all there is to it. They talk about belief, acceptance, forgiveness, grace, etc. and all this time, the only thing I’ve been focusing on is the death part. Yes, I believe, I’ve accepted and well, asked for forgiveness, but I don’t think I’ve actually had that authentic moment of grace. Or 2)what would happen to everyone else when I die? when my grandfather died and my grandmother died, nothing really changed. Everyone else was still breathing, the earth continued rotating on its axis, and the moon didn’t stop revolving the earth. Which leads me to my last thought: I am not living my life to sustain another person. I am living my life because I want to survive. I don’t get all cranky because someone’s frustrated, I get cranky because I’m frustrated. I don’t get sleepless nights thinking of another person (or maybe I do superficially) but in actuality, I can’t get sleep because I’m thinking of myself and how much I need want that person in my life. I finish my food not because there are a couple of million other kids out there dying of hunger, I eat because I enjoy eating and I find pleasure in eating. I try to make myself look presentable not because I want the praise of other people but because I want to look good about myself and get past merciless remarks from stupid asses. I could actually go on but I won’t.

Now that I’ve finally figured out what my life is all about, or partly realized what my life may be all about, I think it’s time for me to try doing something about my limited time here. Maybe I’ll start with psyching myself to this idea that I’ve been so recklessly enlightened on.


Or maybe not.