A Matter of Life or Death

Allow me to put myself out there. I'm afraid of death. It's a fear that I've had since I was a kid. I'm not sure where it originated because nothing ever happened to me during my childhood that sparked the fear, it has just always been inside of me, organically. As a kid, I remember waking up in the middle of the night crying that I didn't want to die. I also remember my mom pulling me into her lap, hugging me, and telling me that I was going to live a long time, probably well into my 80's. I'm 31 now.

If I'm really being honest with myself, being afraid of death is not so much a fear of mine but rather a severe phobia. I can force myself into the throws of a panic attack anywhere, anytime at the mere thought of it. Typically, what happens is that someone mentions something about death or I hear a song on the radio that alludes in some way to it and my mind begins torturing me, "When you die, you're dead forever...and ever...and ever...and ever," you get the idea. I explained my fear to a guidance counselor in school once. She told me that whenever I start to think about death, I should try to squeeze it out of my mind with a thought of something that made me happy. Back then, it was roller skating. To this day, whenever those bad thoughts creep in--which is pretty rare now that I'm old enough to control it--I still picture myself roller skating as a child. It's all those "forever's" that have always freaked me out because if you think about it, you could say "forever" forever and it still wouldn't be even close to the amount of time that will pass once we're gone.

My life is full, chaotic most days. With three kids, I'm on the go from sun up until sun down cleaning, chauffeuring, babysitting, cooking, doing laundry, playing tutor, and doing a million other odd jobs around the house. By the end of the day--which usually doesn't begin until almost 9pm most nights--while I would really love to take a long soak in the tub with a good book--I'm instead happy to spend the last few minutes of the evening with the hubs of whom I haven't seen all day before I finally collapse into bed. Don't get me wrong, I love my crazy life despite the exhaustion it brings me. I was telling the hubs the other day that at the end of my life this exhaustion will have me welcoming death, ready for that good, long nap.

Perhaps a crazy life is just the remedy I need for my phobia of death. I started thinking more about this on Christmas Eve. We spent the evening with the hubs' family, attending a children's service at their church before heading back to the house to open presents and have dessert. His great-grandmother was there. She is in her 90's. I can only hope that one day I will be able to say that I have had the privilege of enjoying 90+ Christmases. As we were leaving the production and walking to the car she began crying. Although I didn't catch everything that she said, I was able to make out, "I'm so blessed." I realized that she was crying bittersweet tears. Happy in that she has been given the blessing of so many years with her family. Sad in not knowing whether or not she will get another Christmas with us. I also realized from now on whenever my fear of death starts creeping into my mind that instead of roller skating I want to think of that moment. Of how I want to focus on making my life so rich with the people I love and making memories with them that when the time comes--and let's face it, the time will come--that instead of being afraid of death I will embrace it, satisfied with how I have lived my life and the abundance of blessings that have been bestowed upon me. So for that, thanks Grannie.