Tuesday, August 23, 2011

4.6.2009 Death Becomes Her

For most of my life, I have given much thought to death; usually, my death.  So much so that while this is the first time I've put it down in writing, I expect to post more than once on the subject.

I'm sure, in my youth, that death was often an escapist fantasy, as in, "they'll [insert name of: parents, ex-boyfriends, friends I'm in a fight with] be sorry when I'm gone!"  I was never more suicidal than the average teenager but I honestly expected to die at a relatively young age, usually of some untreatable disease.  I romanticized death, imagining myself fading slowly but bravely and possessing some kind of amazing strength about the whole ordeal. 

Interestingly, though, I ponder my death more now as an adult, and especially as a follower of Jesus, than I ever did in my childhood.  I have imagined myself dying in all manner of ways, and I never resist them.  By not resisting, I mean that I see myself welcoming death, in any form.

Weird.  I know. 

I could expound more in any number of directions at this point, but I feel I should mention that I love my life.  I really do.  In fact, I think I have one of the greatest lives possible, full of incredible love, endless adventures, amazing friends, extraordinary opportunities, blessed miracles....you get the point.  I don't have regrets.  I embrace my choices.  I look forward to each day. 

And yet, in some ways, I long for death.  People living deeply have no fear of death - Anais Nin

Perhaps it is because I enjoy my life so much that I am able to give it up.  I don't feel like I've missed out on something or that I didn't accomplish all that I could.  I feel ready, at any moment, to say good-bye and be content with how far my journey has come.  I am at peace in my relationships; most importantly, with God and with myself.  I can confidently say that I've left nothing unsaid. 

"Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die"  - Amelia Burr

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