I was having a conversation with my friend H the other day about how we never prepare for death. We know it is something inevitable, but we avoid any conversations or thoughts about it. I recalled something I had written long long ago in my old notes about death and would it ever be possible for us to prepare ourselves for the death of a loved one!
I sometimes wonder when I hear about someone passing away, as to what really does death mean? Does it merely turn out to be the end of ones physical presence. What does death do with a body that can no longer turn on its own. That can no longer seek refuge in the warm arms of a lover. That can no longer smile or leave a note before leaving home. What does death do with a body that doesn’t seek faith in a friend’s conversations. If people knew their exact time of passing away would they say their final goodbyes? And if they would, how would they do so? Would they leave behind letters to read? Or would they simply meet those important to them over a casual cuppa coffee and say it. Would just a few words like I will miss you make up for a lifetime of laughter, sorrow, picnics, conversations. Does fear take over a persons mind who waits for the end to come?
Is death a diplomat, taking away a body and dealing in square, impalling it as thorns of fire tear it to shreds. Is death a craftsman, taking the body uphill on the railroad of pain? Is death a lost lover, striking directly at the heart? Or is it Gods way of peace so we are taken to a place, underground in a night lit bar, where we wait, and then we fall asleep forever?