Death. I never put much thought into death until I was about seven years old. Then my younger brother dropped the bomb on me. I, being the eldest, would die first. Hearing those words, and then, believing them, sucked the life right out of me. It didn’t matter that our mother who was in the room that day, overheard those death words, and dispelled the notion. Damage was done. I was going to die first.
Well, did I recklessly live life to the fullest? No. I worried about death for years. I even picked the death age of Jesus Christ and firmly planted the idea in my mind that I would die at the age of 32. Then I worried about death until I was 32 years old. Nothing earth-shaking happened. I didn’t have any near death experiences, or stumble into open doorways to death. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Heck, I was almost disappointed when I lived to be 33 years old.
Gradually, as the years passed, I relaxed my death stare at death’s doorway. One day I no longer believed I would die first. I mean I could die first except it I didn’t let it bother me.
Now, I just wonder how am I going to die? Will I be murdered or will I die a natural death? Will it be in a car accident, or will I die a slow and water crazed death after being chomped on by a rabid dog and the coma doesn’t work? Or, does it really matter how or when? We’re not supposed to know the “hour of our death” anyway according to biblical lore.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not actively searching for death, nor do I put myself into situations where I am staring at the death’s door. I rather like life. Death just represents a new beginning, to start over, to wipe the slate almost karmically clean of the wrongs I’ve done in this life.
Death is not a get-out-of-life-option according to God’s law, and well, mine too. No, really. To die by my own hand, or, to purposefully put myself into a situation, like pulling out a gun while I am surrounded by police for whatever stupid reason I did to get myself to that point, knowing they will kill me, is still death by my own hand. Besides, suicide is not a clean death; it leaves far too much devastation in its’ wake, and, I am getting preachy.
Let me get back on track. I am not really worried about death, just how I will go and when. Come to find out, I am not alone in my death fascination. There are others who have a “morbid fascination” with death, probably for different reasons. I don’t know. Yet, I did a search on Etsy and found some interesting death themed listings which are at the end of this post.
For the moment, enjoy death. Then, go enjoy life, as well, for death could be around the corner… or death could be staring at you staring at it.