It happens only once

I walked into the hospital room slowly, not sure what to expect. She lay still on the bed in the fetal position. Her skin was cold and frail; her mind was clear but she couldn’t express everything she wanted to. I asked her a series of questions and she could only reply with mumbles and a date, July 7th, 1945, her anniversary. I spent the rest of my visit holding her hand, keeping my Grandma company, trying not to think of what could happen.

I have never personally seen death and I don’t think that I will for a while. But death seems like an abstract concept, like it will never happen to me because I feel a sense of immortality in my youth. That day, when I visited my Grandma in the hospital, I realize that death is inevitable, and maybe even acceptable, but always frightening.

I fear death, not because it happens, but because it doesn’t happen when I want it to. As my grandma is becoming older and older, I see her becoming more frail. Her walking has slowed down, and her health is not what it used to be. I know someday she will die and that scares because I don’t know when it will happen.

There are over six in a half billion people alive in the world, each one different from the next (US Census). Each one having their own thoughts and feeling, dreams and goals; the only thing that we have in common is death. The truth is, someday we all will die, and someday we all will lie on that bed, be in that hospital, and drift in to an eternal sleep. When that happens the cycle of life ends.

I have a friend that works for the Rancho Cordova Police Department. One night he told me he was about to get ready to work a twelve-hour shift because there was a funeral for the recent officer that passed away. He told me his fear of death, and that the recent death of the officer scared him. He knew that death wasn’t a façade, or an abstract concept, but very real and tangible. He told me that he fears death, because it is real, and it is apart of his job, but that if he feared it too much, or too little, it could be fatal. He said that sometimes he is too relaxed on the job and, because of that, he could make a mistake that could lead to death. When another officer does die, it resets his mind to work in a safer way, but he knows that he will eventually become lax again. The last thing he told me was that death happens, and he can’t stop it or prevent. He cannot stop going to work because of his fear of death. He does have a job to do; the only thing that he can do is to live with a healthy view of death.

My conversation with my friend the police officer gave me a new view of death. Death is an inevitable reality that must happen. Where there is death there is life, but to fear death to the point of an unhealthy obsession isn’t living. Death happens. My grandma will die. My friend will die. One day I will die as well. But it isn’t how we die that makes us special or even heroes. It is what we do while we live that make us great.

So I suppose that my fear of death isn’t in the action of dying, or when it might happen, but my desire to be something while I live. My grandma will be remembered for the love she showed to other people. My friend will be remembered for the way he serves and protects. I can’t help but want to know how I will be remembered, I may never know, but the only thing that I am able to know is how I live today, right now, and that is the best I can do. I am not able to change death, but I am able to change how I live.

.daniel.

It could be a complete thought.

Let me start with this: I’m beginning to miss high school.
STOP! Before you go straight to the comment section and tell me how stupid or immature I am listen to my thoughts before you make an assumption about me.
I was watching a soccer game the other day, at Capital- the senior game. The game was devoted to seniors, to thank them for their hard work and everything related to the sort. Watching them, and listening to the other students in the stands I began to lament:

High school was simple back then; there was nothing to worry about. I had school, church and that was it. Looking at these kids, they are here and no where else, college hasn’t hit them; reality hasn’t struck a chord in their hearts. I am here on this bench worried about all these things, and these kids are playing their hearts out because that’s all they have right now: soccer. And everything I have is worry and anxiety, and a little bit of love.

On that bench with the cold affecting my hands, I realized I wanted to go back. Back to high school and everything simple, everything easy. But, logically that’s impossible. If I did go back, I wouldn’t be where I am today, that’s why it is self reflection. I was reflecting on my past, everything I have learned would be lost. Unless I wanted to keep everything, but why would I want that? To achieve greatness. A selfish desire that has little practicality in real life. Here I am, wanting to be back in high school, in a simpler life, doing the easy thing.
You want to ask it don’t you? Why do you want the easy things in life?
So I am not responsible for the hard things! If I am not responsible for the hard things in life I am indifferent to them- and I’m okay with that. I have a manager that says all he wants to do is nothing. Nothing at all. He wants to sit. To lie in his bed and stare at the ceiling- he wants this life. It doesn’t sound too difficult, to do nothing, not to be responsible for anything But also sounds too easy, so now I am torn. I want the easy things, but also a little challenge.
Sartre would call me an Inauthentic Individual, a person that can’t make up his mind, one that uses his freedom for granted.
Where I am? I am inauthentic individual that can’t decide what I want in life, or how to live it. Can this be anymore ridiculous? Yes, it could, it always can.

Test one and two.

Here we are under the assumption that something is wrong, that something is new. I am scared for the future because I know little of what is happening.

But thats why it is a mystery isn't?



.daniel.