One way or another, I’m facing death. Imminently. We all are. Maybe not in an imminent, impending-doom kinda way. But we all are, inching our way towards the inevitability with each passing moment. This is it. Right now, right here.
Sure, some of us are faced with a significantly higher probability of dying or dealing with death of a loved one in the near future. But all of us are inching towards it.
Personally, I might make it out of this one. I might not. Someone I love might make it out alive. Or they might not.
Looking back, I think of the good times in my life. I’ll be honest. I’ve had my fair share, and then some. I’ve had good times. I’ve had a smooth sailing for the most part. Life’s been good, and I’ve sort of always lived in a bubble. Untouched by death or serious disease. I have understood the material game play better than most, and I’ve been lucky to unravel some of the mysteries of life that most aren’t fortunate enough to.
And yet, death arrives. It’s imminent. It’s fine, for the most part. Some days I am scared. Who wouldn’t be? Maybe someone braver than me. But I am. Some days I am not. I welcome it. I have had days, though not very many, that I have felt an anticipatory excitement. Excitement about the prospect of facing the afterlife… or being free from the limitations of my body.
I fear the pain, sure. Especially if it gets drawn out for days, weeks, or even months. That’s the most upsetting part of it. But I’ve also found a renewed faith in God. I’ve always believed in God’s infinite wisdom and power, but never has my faith been questioned as it has been the past few months. Nor has it ever been reinforced the way it has been over the same period.
The fear of separation from the loved ones isn’t really a fear. It’s just a sadness. This isn’t the right age, but many have gone far younger. Parents shouldn’t have the bear the sight and sound of a child’s death. Elders shouldn’t have to bear the sadness of young ones’ death. But our life isn’t always how it should be. We don’t always get to choose.
I am still positive we will make it out of this. But lately, death and it’s inevitability has become a distinct possibility for me and mine in the near future. I always assumed death would meet us when we were in our eighties. We’d maintain a healthy lifestyle, and death would arrive at its due time.
Looking back… and you have to look back, just because… I can’t help but think about the happy moments of my life. I don’t remember the emotions. I remember visuals. People say you remember emotions, I’m having a hard time remembering emotions. I can recall visuals, though. I try to chastise myself for not having enjoyed those moments more thoroughly. I can’t. I can’t chastise myself for anything.
The only thing looking back that I regret is postponing things. Postponing experiences to “when things will be better”.
By all rights I have had a life most people daren’t dream about. I have had a good one. Far better than anyone imagined it could be. I honestly did. Still do. I still believe if I could have another 20 years (along with certain prerequisite conditions) I’d have far more visuals heading into the all-devouring mouth of death than I’ve got now.
If could do things differently, I’d be more honest and less hypocritical. More honestly dedicated to my work. I regret not focusing strongly enough, and in many cases, like my college days, at all. I could have paid more attention. I could have eaten better, and that would have kept me more enegetic. I could have sacrificed more and had more visuals. More memories.
And the end that’s what it boils down to. More memories. Soaring freely. Like an eagle.
That’s what I envy.
The freedom. The sheer exhilarating joy of being free.
But who knows! I might still make it out of this one alive. And if I do, I intend to make changes.