I was driving through Bithlo today (Bithlo is a hick town in Florida) with my mother, and she was telling me about her life back on the farm. She had to watch her father put bullets into the head of one of their favorite cows. She had to take part in the death of a lame horse, and it was an everyday thing. For my mother on the farm, death was a part of life that she and her brothers and sisters had to except. This made me wonder. When did our fear of death overcome our sensibilities? When did humanity become so obsessed with the idea that death was horrible, and should be avoided at all costs?
We blindly believe this to the point where we will spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to save a six month premature baby that will grow up a vegetable, unaware of it's own esistance. It will live a life of torment and longing to be normal, but at least it lived. At what cost does saving life come? There are fates worse than death, and sadly we tend not to believe this. Living day after day in horrible pain without anyway out is a fate worse than death. If all you can ever think about is how cancer is killing off your last lung cells, you are suffering a fate worse than death. Even if you will live six years, six years without half a brain is six years without half a brain.
People march and protest the abortion of a child who was conceived by a man and a woman who have not enough money to support a child. I suppose they figure a life of poverty, or a life of being tossed from foster home to foster home is better than no life at all. I dissagree. Would you rather live as a head staring at a hospital wall for years on end, or just not live at all? Think about it.
Suffering is bad for you. Death is not. Death is not a form of suffering, death is a part of life. Death is bad for other people, poeple who would miss you if you died, and thats actualy quite selfish. Then again that is more than likely what our fear of death comes to, not so much the fear that we will be gone, but that the people around us will be. We fear being alone. We fear lonliness so much that we would rather have others suffer than have them be free. When does it stop? How am I to know that anything would change whether I lived or not?
You know, if I died a few hours ago no one would have known about it until maybe tomorrow afternoon, everyone would have figured I was still asleep. I don't think my siblings would have bothered to check if I was still alive if they found me laying with my eyes open on my half-covered bed, even if my lips were dry and my face stiff. No one would have found out until my mother would come home and would find me laying there as lifeless as the frozen fish in her freezer. I believe she might cry at this point, then call my brother in south florida and tell him maybe before telling my younger brother and sister who would more than likely be in the pool while she wept and spoke to my brother who would be deciding to find a way to get his butt up here and console my mother.
After speaking with him I think she might sit and think about what to do next for a while. I have no idea what would then happen. But my younger brother and sister would more than likely find out before my ex-girlfriend (the mother of my daughter) and my daughter. I have no idea how my daughter might take that information. Being as young as she is, how would she comprehend the entire concept of death, much less the death of the second most important person in her life. At least I hope I am the second most important person in her life.
I think after about three days everyone who ever knew me would know of my passing. This might be hopeful thinking, but hey I have faith in my family and friends to spread the news to who might or might not care. I have no idea how my father would take it, I know he would probably cry, but I don't really know how he feels about me so I can't realy predict anything else. At least I would cry if I were him, I think.
They would all mourn the loss of me. Me, the little buggar who slept in late everyday. How was I of use to anyone? I know I am good at making people feel good. I have that talent. So I suppose those who were made happy by me might miss me the most. They had lost something that made them happy...I guess. But thats not really thinking of them in such good light is it? But who would morn my loss? Who would think about everything I had and lost in death. I wouldn't get to see my daughter grow up. I wouldn't get to own my own home, and I would never have found true love. Thats kinda sad. Only those closest to me would even know I was gone, much less care.
How many people cared when princess Diana died? I would expect many, and most of these people didn't even know her. I think there was more money involved in the news of her death and thats why so many paople knew and cared, or thought they cared, or pretended to care. I didn't care. She never did anything for me. Call that selfish if you want. So now I sit and wonder about how many people would really care if I died, and if this number ever increased for any reason, does that make me a better person or just a better known person?
I'm wondering now if my mother would think of me as a spirit because of something I told her once about believing in ghosts. Or maybe she would continue to believe the way she believes now...that things are the way they appear to be, at least thats what I think she thinks. You know there is only two people in my life that I wouldn't be able to get over their death, my daughter, and whoever it is who I am supposed to fall in love with. Love is evasive enough as it is, and right now my little girl is the only person who's love for me is without flaw. Maybe in thinking that this flawless love exists is a bit romantic and in turn crazy of me, but I seem to stand by the idea. I've gotten over the death of a friend of mine, and my grandparents by believing that they are still alive, but I will just not ever be able to see them again. Easy enough. My best friend could decide to move away and never see me again. I think I could live with that. But I can't live without my daughter, and I can't live without love. I think I'm walking the razors edge everyday I go without hearing "I love you." from someone who truely meant it.
I think what bothers me the most is the one person who would miss me the most if I died a few hours ago isn't yet old enough to realy understand what she lost, still, that doesn't mean I can't die. I am as subject to mortality as anyone else on this planet. Even if this disturbs me a little bit, I understand it, and I try not to fear it, and I accept it as a part of living. Everyone deserves to die, that's why they do.
-N. Green
