An Fragile Life-Death doesn't care
Life is fragile
I have always known that life if fragile. It started when I was young. Of course, there was the occasional death of an elderly person in the family. That is always expected. You have to teach the young that this is a part of life so that when they grow up it won’t be such a shock. It will be sad, yes, but the shock will be less.
Those deaths are expected and have a different effect than those which come on suddenly, or occur to someone who wasn’t near the age of expected death. The first child’s death that I can recall was at the age of 5 years old. It was from a sudden illness and he died overnight. Unexpected. Heartbreaking. I was 11 years old.
His death brought his aunt (aged 12) and I together. We became fast best friends and were inseparable after that. During the next few years we became familiar with young death. Suicide. Wrecks. Those were of people our own age. Shocking but not self-realizing. I had started to become immune to feelings of death. I didn’t cry. It was a part of life. I accepted it.
Life continued and I lost a great grandmother, great uncle, great grandfather, grandfather. I even lost a pregnancy of my own, later in my teen years.
I married young the first time. I was 16. (Another story for another time.) Shortly after I turned 16 my best friend’s niece was accidentally ran over. She was 2. She died. Tragedy. Death was everywhere.
My best friend and I had a disagreement and backed away from the friendship some. She and a friend of hers were hit by a couple of cars which caused the death of her friend. My friend was injured but survived. She did come to my wedding which was 3 months after her niece had died.
Tragically, not a month had passed after my wedding, and my best friend also died. She had a car crash with a train. She had just turned 17.
Death. I couldn’t escape. I can’t escape. Nobody can.
Death. Something that rears its ugly head when you feel secure. Something that shows up to remind you that you are not exempt and your time is ticking away.
Since my then best friend’s death in 1995, I have been through many many more deaths. Acquaintances, coworkers, in-laws, and close friends. I have also lost family. My papaw, my uncle, my dad.
My dad’s death was in 2009. This year was a very tough year for me. I had to have thick skin. So, that’s what I had. I had to be strong. My mom needed me to help her. He was her husband for 30 years.
I began to think that something was wrong with me. How many people have to die to make you feel that your own death is knocking on your door? Of course, I wasn’t oblivious to the thought. I knew I would die.
Death usually doesn’t give you a warning when you are younger than the expected time of expiration. Those deaths are scary to me.
A few years ago, my best friend since high school, not grade school, lost her brother. He was 29. Cancer. Unexpected. I was 37. This began my decent. My acceptance. My dread. I became consumed. Fear surrounded me. It engulfed me. I no longer felt safe leaving the house. Depression set in. Anxiety became a permanent tenant instead of an every now and then visitor. This particular death sent me spiraling into all of the memories of all of the deaths before him.
Driving past cemeteries became extremely difficult for me to go by. All I could think of is the people who have come and gone. I thought of the millions and millions of people who were already gone. Most never to be thought of again.
I would panic at the thought of needing to go to town for groceries. My home was the safest place for me. Death could be waiting at every turn if I left. Scenario after scenario played in my head, day after day, time after time, over and over.
Then last year a step aunt of mine died. She was 6 years older than me. This one scared me so much because she was so near my age. It wasn’t from a wreck. She didn’t wake up. More panic. More anxiety. Coping became very difficult.
I honestly believe I was also going through a midlife crisis since my best friend’s brother’s death. Things piling up so high I could barely catch my breath. Sadness nearly consumed me. I had to deal with things I didn’t want to deal with. Such as my dad’s death nearly 10 years ago. Something I really never did.
Death. Death does not care about your name. It does not care how much money you have. It does not care how old you are. It does not pass you by. You are not exempt from death’s permanent grasp.
Life really is fragile. It takes a second of one minute to be gone. And it WILL be gone. You have no choice. None of us do.
I have always known that everyone around me will die and have feared it. I have protected my children the best I can. I have shielded them from “potential dangers”. I have prayed for their safety. I have tried my best to show them how to be safe and to be careful. I know I can’t always protect them. This goes for my husband as well. And my mother. Also for those I love the most.
I am dealing with fear better than I was before. I am not as scared anymore. But, I do know how fragile this life is. I don’t plan to wear a band-aid over it for rest of my life though.
Even though this is one of the hardest things I have had to endure, I hope most people get a sense of the fragility of life. Not one of the tangible things you have will carry on in your afterlife. Hopefully the presence of love for those who meant something in your life will go with you.
When the self-realization of your own mortality hits you, and only then, you will understand how fragile life really is.
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