How much do we really know about death? Knowing that we’re going to die, sooner or later, doesn’t bother most of us. That is, until we get much closer to death. Then we start thinking about it.
Life is somewhat unique for humans. We can reflect on our lives, past, present, and future.
It’s doubtful that other creatures on the Earth do such thinking, though I could be wrong. I could also be wrong about death.
There’s just so much about it that we don’t know. We presume to know, often based upon religious background.
Still, there’s not much feedback from those who’ve died already, is there?
Life for many is a struggle, a wretched existence of day to day effort, often just to get to the next day.
For the privileged few, life has many moments of pleasure, though I dare separate pleasure and happiness.
They’re not the same.
There’s a large park and a school near my parent’s home here in Los Angeles. Everyday that I visit there are children playing.
From their sounds one would presume an aura of happiness and pleasure exists in such a gathering of innocent creatures.
Children, as with aging adults and most everyone in between, don’t give much though to death, dying, or the process of living.
Most of us just live out our days, drawing what comfort we can from others, extending ourselves to some, enjoying what we can.
We know full well that it will all end but don’t give it much consideration. Doing so would put a kink in the day, I’m sure.
Now I know. Though I don’t know the number, my days are numbered.
All the joys and pleasures and happy moments of the past remain as memories, some vivid, some peacefully co-existing with a strange curiosity about what may come after tomorrow.
I’m not one who buys the “angels in heaven” routine for those who pass on. There’s not much purpose in that scenario.
Yet, what bothers me most about life, life as we know it in a normal, pleasant existence, is the struggle and the inevitability of the result.
Death is obviously a natural occurrence and part of what we call life. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.
There’s hatred, injustice, catastrophe, and injury in life. We seem to survive those days and continue the hope and the struggle.
Death is that part of life that I’ve come to hate the most.
Editor’s Note: I apologize for the delay between journal entries. Before her death, Tera passed along her personal journal. It is filled with hundreds of comments, essays, observations, and perspectives on every subject matter. As time permits, I will edit and publish select journal entries for Tera Talks. —Alexis Kayhill